


The Little Virtues

by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12



Series: American Dreamers [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: AU- A Nice Life, Adoption, Adulthood, Angst, Childhood Sweethearts, Domestic Fluff, Empathy Disorder, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grandparents, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannibal as a practicing Psychiatrist, Hints at Attempted date rape, M/M, Marriage, Mentions of the Minnesota Shrike, Mild (very) sexual content, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Painting a Nursery Together, The American Prison System, Troublesome Patients, Will Graham Has a Nice Day, Will Graham Teaching at Quantico, Will Loves Hannibal, Will and Hannibal adopt Baby Abigail, in chapter 8, lifelong friendship, losing loved ones, sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12037887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12/pseuds/EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: With their days of Kindergarten long behind them, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter have settled into a comfortable life together. When Hannibal gets a patient that gives them an opportunity they hadn't thought possible, they happily move forward into what life has to offer.A follow up to What You'd Find Buried in the Dirt Under Charles F. Kettering, Sr. High School that finds our favorite cast of characters dealing with the working of marriage, children, and adulthood in the only way they know how.Name for an essay by Natalia Ginzburg.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! 
> 
> I'm super excited to be writing this piece and to be following up on Kettering. It was a lot of fun, and the whole host of characters was such a good time to write that I couldn't help myself but do this follow up! It is a bit heavier, but will have quite of bit of fluff and such that I hope makes it worth it! I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it!
> 
> The layout is a bit different, and it will be interspersed with flashbacks that are in Italics. There will be fewer as the story progresses, but there are several at the offset. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

He listened to the message again. Then again. Then again, feeling the first spring of tears coming to the corner of his eyes. He covered his mouth, hardly able to believe it was really true. “Hannibal!” He yelled, and he couldn’t believe they had both missed the phone call, insisting anyone calling at this time of day either wanted money or information for the upcoming census. Hannibal stepped into the living room almost instantly, as if he had been waiting by the door frame for Will to call for help.

Will looked at him, knowing he must look in horrible distress, with his hands covered in oil and grease and now his face streaked with tears. “It was Carolyn from the agency.” He watched Hannibal’s face fall and he couldn’t help the almost-mischievous smile that came across his lips, though he hid it with his hand.

“Will,” he breathed, and Will knew he was assuming the worst. “We knew it was unlikely to begin with. I know it’s difficult…”

“The papers went through.”

“We can always…” Hannibal froze, mid-comforting sentence. “What did you say?”

“The paperwork came through.” Will said again. “They’re inducing labor tomorrow. We can bring her home.”

And then he was wrapped in a pair of arms, his face pressed to Hannibal’s shoulder. “We have a child.” Hannibal murmured, and Will was just amazed Hannibal managed to ignore the thick layer of grease from the Bentley in order to bring this hug to fruition.

“I thought we’d never get here.” Will said honestly, resisting the urge to run his hand through Hannibal’s hair like he knew he liked it to save the blonde strands form permanent stains.

“I need to shower.” He finally said, laughing at Hannibal’s slight look of reproach as he leaned back with his arms still around Will. But his eyes were soft with tears of his own, and he let Will go. Will almost thought he might follow him into the bathroom, but wasn’t surprised when he emerged later to find Hannibal in the small, hopeful nursery they had made together, setting out books and making sure the small crib was perfectly neat.

 

 

_Will could feel the pain radiating off of Hannibal as he came in the kitchen. Since his sophomore year of high school, when they had finally figured out why his emotions seemed so volatile, he been trying to work on controlling his empathy. It was both the cause and solution of nearly all of their fights through the years, when Will would shut Hannibal out and the later wouldn’t be able to deal with the isolation when they were supposed to be sharing their time together. Now though, he knew Hannibal was making an effort, even as he chopped the peppers with more force than Will had ever seen._

_“What’s wrong?”_

_“I can’t say.” But Will knew. He had started his court-mandated patients that day, and though most weren’t going to be the heart-wrenching type, Will knew that there would probably be something to throw him off. He touched Hannibal’s face, always worried he was going to revert back to his old way of not talking. They had been through so much together, and those were the times that scared Will the most. Ever since they had first met in their matching desks in kindergarten. He had done it only twice since then, and Will didn’t plan on letting it happen again if he could help it._

_“Are you safe?” Will asked, and Hannibal smiled, turning his head to press a kiss to Will’s palm._

_“Yes. I am not concerned for myself.”_

_“Your patient will be alright, Hannibal.”_

_“I am not worried for her, either.” And then Will could feel it, radiating off of him. The same protective instinct he could feel whenever he and Hannibal would argue back in high school and he would talk to his father. The same instinct he could feel from the parents of the children he was trying to save with the work from the bureau. Achingly paternal._

_“The child will be alright.” The lettuce knife stilled. Hannibal sighed and let out a small laugh. Will knew it was because the man was well aware that he could hide nothing from him after their years together._

_"Eventually, someone will decide out marriage is a violation of Doctor-Patient confidentiality, Will." He said softly, but Will watched as his hands moved slower and the lettuce was cut at its usual pace._

 

_Leta Hobbs was an interesting woman. Eighteen years old with the demeanor of a twenty-five year old. She was intelligent, too intelligent to be barred in by classroom walls and social conventions, her brilliance was obvious to some while others remained completely and shockingly oblivious to it. Pretty, by conventional standards, with hair pulled back into a mess of brunette frizz over the bright white of her jumpsuit. They thought Leta Hobbs was crazy. Hannibal knew better._

_“Why are you here, Mrs. Hobbs?” He asked her, the very first thing he said to her while she toyed with a loose string on his chair._

_“I thought you knew I was one of your court-orders, Doctor Lecter.” She said, and smiled at him, moving a hand protectively over the curve of her stomach. “Did you forget? They think I’m crazy. That you can help me.”_

_“You don’t seem to think you’re crazy, Mrs. Hobbs.”_

_“I don’t use that name much. Never really did.” She replied. “You can call me Leta.”_

_“You don’t seem to think you’re crazy, Leta.” He amended his statement, crossing his legs and watching her look anywhere but at him._

_“It’s easier for them to think I’m crazy. That I killed my husband because I’m crazy because they feel bad for me.”_

_“Why do you think they feel bad for you, Leta?”_

_“I’m a pregnant widow. My husband was the Minnesota Shrike." She said very calmly, and laughed again, though Hannibal knew there was no humor in her tone. “And now I’m in prison for killing him.” Then she looked up at him. He was almost sorry to say she reminded him of Will. Her eyes were light brown, the color of maple tree bark, but it wasn’t the shade that did it. It was the knowing that pulled him in. This woman, Leta, was barely more than a teenager, but she seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. Like she could see past the professional wear and see right into his life beyond it. The insecurities, the emotions he worked so hard to hold back. He could feel his tongue growing heavy, his throat choking up. He hadn’t had an incident of that in years, but this woman, this girl, was bringing back things he thought he had moved past._

_“You don’t seem angry, Leta.” He said finally. And she shook her head._

_“I’m just happy he’s not out on the loose anywhere.” She said, and he was relieved when she looked away. “I’ll be fine. They’ll forgive me eventually.” She added. But Hannibal watched as her hand ghosted over her stomach again. He didn’t share Will’s gift for empathy, nor his overwhelming disorder for it, but he could see the concern etched into her face. Maternal instinct, protective instinct. But at the moment, there seemed to be nothing he could do for her._

_He wished for an odd moment that Bedelia was there. Though his mother was no longer practicing, except with a few select patients who couldn’t stand to see her go, he had seen her handle situations with practiced ease. She had gotten Will through his early stages of his empathy disorder without ever losing control of the situation. He could use some of that tensile strength now._

_So he thought of what gave him strength, and it was easier from there. It was nearly four O’clock, Will would be ending his classes at Quantico on post-mortem decay rates and their effects on forensic analysis of active scenes. He pictured him in the pale green plaid shirt he had worn that morning, complete with elbow pads and frayed sleeves, his glasses slightly askew since he was nearly always running a bit late. And he felt peace wash over him a little._

_“Tell me about your child, Leta.” And he watched her give the faintest hint of a genuine smile._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all for reading the first chapter! I hope you enjoy this second chapter as well! More to come soon, I promise! :D
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

_“You’ve got a visitor, Graham Junior.” Will heard the voice from the front as he tightened the last screw on the truck’s undercarriage. “And what looks like a nice gift.” Will stuck his head out, half expecting his father to be there, he always made an effort to do special things on Will’s birthday, and Will had missed both him and Kathy before he went to school that morning. However, he didn’t hear his dad’s usual deep voice at the register, talking to Paula like nothing had changed. Even though his dad didn’t work at the service station anymore since being promoted to full-time mechanic and part-time salesman at the dealership, the people still loved him. It was the largest part of what had gotten Will the part-time job. That, and the now fading picture prints of Will from his many days spent playing in the garage as a child._

_He slid out from under the car, glancing down at himself, feeling that the dampness on his knee was from the now functioning air conditioner. He was just glad it wasn’t oil, or he would have effectively ruined a third set of work clothes, even though he still wore the old ones, oil stains and all._

_“You didn’t tell us it was your birthday, Will!” Paula said as Will stepped into the lobby. He smiled at her, knowing she didn’t draw unwanted attention to him intentionally, even though now all the folks in the lobby were looking at him. “Not every day a fella turns seventeen.” She looked at Will’s visitor for a confirmation._

_Hannibal seemed taken aback, as if he had never been unexpectedly drawn into a conversation before, and nodded quickly. Will smirked at him, looking oddly out of place in his double-breasted suit with a dark purple tie. In his hands was a perfectly wrapped box, complete with a bow, as well as a card that Will could tell had Bedelia’s signature on it._

_“Sorry I’m covered in water,” Will said. “I thought you and Tobias were doing something today.” Tobias Budge and Hannibal had been dating since they started high school, since around the same time Will had started dating Alana Bloom before she had decided that she and Margot Verger were a better match. Will wasn’t sure what to think of Tobias, but Hannibal at least seemed happy._

_“He and I spent the morning together at Triangle Park.” Hannibal said, “But I would be remiss to not see you on your birthday.” He stepped towards Will with the box, and Will pulled him into a hug, which he returned despite the water. He hadn’t seen Hannibal except for in their phone conversations for nearly a week where school had been let out and he had been working as much as possible. This was the money that was going to carry him through college, and he couldn’t have asked for better timing on getting days off since three people were out for winter vacations and Mr. Lawson was desperate for the help. “Beverly has informed me that she appreciates the aesthetic quality of my gift wrapping.” Hannibal said, and lifted up the box._

_Will smirked, taking it from him, “You saw Bev?”_

_“She and Brian were at the park as well.” Beverly had sent Will a couple dozen happy birthday messages throughout the day, and promised to deliver his present at the next opportunity. He reached into his breast pocket and took out a pack of Zebra Stripe gum. “She sends her love.”_

_Will laughed, and took the gum, undoing the wrapping that Hannibal had so perfectly prepared for him, feeling the anticipation rolling off of his oldest friend. He pulled out a brand new, Zebco brand fishing reel, and pack of test made specifically for ice fishing. “I thought we could go when you have time.” Hannibal said, and Will watched his ears and face turn red, unable to keep himself from thinking that he had never seen Hannibal that shy around Tobias. He set it back carefully, laying the card on top for future reading._

_“I love it.” He said, and pulled Hannibal into another hug. It was rare he hugged anyone, this Paula seemed to know, and Will ignored what he knew was a pointed look at the two of them. “I’ll plan us a weekend.” And he waited up front until Hannibal had carved through the snow in his Bentley while leaving the parking lot._

 

 

“Why won’t they let you and Penguin into the delivery room?” Beverly’s voice was so loud on the other end of the phone that Will knew others in the lobby, Hannibal included, could hear it. She was the third person they had called, the first being Will’s father (and by extension, Kathy) and the second being Bedelia. Both were en route to the hospital, but the baby wasn’t due for another few hours, so there had been little rush. Beverly would be there later with Brian, she had already said, despite being at work all day.

“Leta has requested privacy for the first part of the medical examinations. They said they would come get us when the birth process actually starts.” He tried to explain.

“That’s bullshit!” Will sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose, even though he was inclined to agree with Beverly’s exclamation. “Penguin is basically this woman’s sanity piece.”

“Leta isn’t insane, Beverly.” He looked down at Hannibal, mortified, feeling his face grow red, but Hannibal just smiled up at him. Will was glad Hannibal liked Beverly, it had always seemed like a toss-up with Beverly’s almost abrasive tendencies, but they got along swimmingly, and Beverly was the only person to give Hannibal a nickname he didn’t outwardly detest. “She’s troubled.”

“Okay, okay.” Beverly said. “I’m going to get off the line, I’m driving. Make sure Penguin eats, I know how he gets when he’s nervous.” Will looked over at Hannibal, who was blushing now as more people started to look over at them, and he realized he had just been called out. It was true though, Will hadn’t seen him eat anything but a few bites of excited dinner the night before.

“I’ll take care of him. Bye, Bev, see you soon.”

“Love you.” She answered back, and Will couldn’t help but smile before he sat down with Hannibal, who was rifling through the baby name book from the gift shop.

 

 

_“How come you decided to name me Will, daddy?” He asked, filling in all of the leaves on his family tree._

_“You were named after my dad. His name was Billy.”_

_“But my name is Will.” His dad nodded his head like that was a good point._

_“That’s true. But you’re both named William.” He finally said, putting away the remnants from dinner. Will poked out his tongue, careful to write “William” inside one of the leaves, right next to Grandma’s._

_“When did Grandpa Billy pass away?”_

_“About a year before you were born.” His dad said, pausing for just a second while Will watched him. “He was a great guy, I wish you could have met him.”_

_“Grandma says he couldn’t do his own laundry.” Will said, matter-of-fact. “And that he was a solider.”_

_His daddy laughed, coming to sit with him at the table. “Those are both true, I reckon.”_

_“But, I want to do my own laundry.” Will insisted, pausing his coloring. Mr. Crawford’s demands could wait a few minutes at least. “And I don’t think I want to be a soldier, daddy, even though I like my soldier.”_

_Will’s soldier was named Colonel Mikkelsen, the man whom had received his Christmas letter the whole class had mailed out. He had written back to him, after Will’s birthday, and told him he was very happy to have Will as a correspondence back home. He had included a picture of himself and his own husband, Colonel Dancy, and Will now had a copy of it pinned underneath Spiderman on his wall, and had given Hannibal one as well._

_“You don’t have to do those things, bud.” His father said, patting him on the hand. “You can do anything you want.”_

_“But how can I do anything I want if I’m named after Grandpa Billy?”_

_“Names don’t make us, bud, they just give us something to call our own.”_

 

 

Hannibal thumbed through the names patiently. He knew that to the other people in the waiting room, he looked perfectly composed: fully dressed in a suit and tie, with shined shoes and hair neatly combed while Will looked the pinnacle of new-parent neuroticism with his curls wild, his clothes ruffled, and his constant phone calls. Beyond their little circle of people, very few people would know that it was quite the opposite.

There was a part of him, deep and buried and soothing now to consider, that wanted to name the little daughter that was waiting on them Mischa. It was such a heavy desire that he had almost voiced it to Will on two separate occasions and his hands fluttered back to the “M” section far more often than they should. But something kept him silent. Perhaps old doubts. How could he reconcile another child named Mischa? What would that mean for him? For Bedelia? For his own father? He decided it was not worth it.

“Something bothering you?” Will said, collapsing into the generic chair next to him, having given his father directions on how to get into the parking garage and where Kathy could get a free refill of water at the Hydration Station on the bottom floor. He handed Hannibal a wrapped turkey and cheese sandwich which looked older than even the coffee in the complimentary pot on the nightstand.

“Of course not.” And it wasn’t really. “Do you have any ideas for names?”

“I was thinking her middle name could be after Leta.” Will laughed to himself, and put his hand on Hannibal’s leg, right above his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I’ll think she’ll figure out one of us didn’t give birth to her soon enough.”

“Perhaps her first name could be after Beverly.” Hannibal quipped, smiling at Will’s gentle snort of laughter. “She, after all, has given me my name.”

“Penguin does suit you.” Will said, but even as he did, he reached over to adjust Hannibal’s collar so that it was properly matched up against his throat. “I thought you might want to name her for Bedelia.”

“My mother has always been very insistent that her name remains her own.” Hannibal laughed softly, flipping back to the “G” section of the book where everything from Gabriella to Gertrude was inked on the pages. He couldn’t imagine a child named Gertrude Graham-Lecter, and was glad to see Will looking at the G page with slight distaste. “What about your grandmother?”

He had loved Will’s Grandmother, and thought that her name, Violet, had the old-world beauty that they were looking for. “I thought about it,” Will admitted. “She was an incredible woman, I would love if our child grew up to be like her.” Hannibal watched Will’s eyes swim with emotion that was solely his own, a rare feat for such a connected man.

“We have a few hours, yet.” Hannibal said, lacing his fingers through Will’s, bringing his hand up to his lips.

“Please eat your sandwich.” Will said, and Hannibal sighed, unwrapping it as stiffly as possible, but unable to deny Will’s request when he looked at him like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the great response so far, I am glad you are enjoying the story! As always, I hope you enjoy, please R and R, let me know what you think! :D

_“Tell me about your child, Leta.” Hannibal said softly. She let out a harsh breath that it took him a moment to realize was actually a laugh. She kept laughing, the sound less and less strange the more she made it._

_“I didn’t mean to get pregnant. I was careful.” She said, “But it didn’t help much, did it?"_

_“Were you uninterested in having children?”_

_“I’m eighteen.” Hannibal swallowed. He had to admit, he had nearly forgotten that fact. “And no, I never wanted children.” He was about to follow up with another question, but it seemed as though she was on the cusp of speaking again, and so he waited. So many patients it was like pulling teeth to get them to speak, but Leta Hobbs seemed to have very little to hide. From what he had been told by the forensics team, she hadn’t hidden anything at the crime scene either. She had called them and stood and waited, gun leveled at her husband in case he reanimated, until the police arrived._

_“I didn’t tell my husband I was pregnant, Dr. Lecter.” She said slowly. “By the time I knew, I was aware of what he was doing. I thought he might try and kill me.”_

_“Your husband targeted women who looked like you.” Hannibal said, taking care that his pen didn’t scratch into the notebook. “It is natural that you were afraid.”_

_“I was never afraid of Garrett.” She said softly. “But I became afraid for my child.” She laughed again, and her eyes locked with Hannibal’s. He swallowed, imperceptible to anyone except for perhaps Will who was thankfully not there to see it. “He didn’t like to share."_

_Hannibal said nothing. To agree was to agree that she should have killed a man. To disagree was to invalidate her and her feelings. So instead, he waited, knowing that she was bound to say more._

_“Like I said, Dr. Lecter, its easier for them to think I’m crazy. That I didn’t plan for two months on how to kill Garrett without being killed first. But you know better, I think, and I don’t want to waste your time.”_

_“What now, Leta?” He asked, making no comment. “What will you do?”_

_“I still don’t want children, Dr. Lecter.” And she laughed again, only this time a tear came to the corner of her eyes. “I just didn’t think this one deserved to die because of him.”_

 

Bedelia was the first to arrive. Will wasn’t surprised: his mother-in-law was rarely less than perfectly punctual while his father had been moving progressively slower and slower since arthritis had attacked his knees from years of bending over car engines. Hannibal stood when she came in, so Will did the same, and watched as the pair embraced. He was happy to see the warmth between them, though both looked vaguely uncomfortable with physical contact, because he could remember distinctly all the times that it had been nearly cold between them.

“Will.” She said, and released Hannibal to turn towards Will. She leaned in and gave him a small hug, which he returned graciously.

“You’re getting sentimental, Bedelia.” He said, pulling back. She smiled at him, the soft laugh lines etched into her face telling him more than he needed to know. Bedelia was aging far more than gracefully, and to be honest, she looked hardly any different from when Will had first met her except the slowly graying hairs and the occasional lines. The older he got, the more Hannibal resembled her with his defined, almost severe features. Bedelia held his gaze for a moment longer before moving to sit.

Will wondered if she realized what she meant to Will. How much he thought he owed her, not only for her care of Hannibal, but for all she had done for Will in terms of his mental health. He was happy they would have the chance to have Bedelia be there for their child as it grew.

“I have already spoken with your father, Hannibal. I take it you didn’t call him?” She upturned the end as though she were asking a question, but knew better than to wait on a response. “He has requested a picture when you can get one, and that you bring her by to see him.”

Will threaded his fingers back through Hannibal’s, feeling the slight shaking in response, trying his best to calm him. “I told him I would do what I could, but that the child was yours.” She said, very matter-of-fact, and took out a pair of square-rimmed reading glasses to look at the baby name book in her son’s hands.

 

_Will was exhausted, and he had almost gone home. But he had promised Hannibal to bring over the college application books he had checked out from the public library so they could work on them over the weekend. When he had pulled into the familiar long driveway, he had half-expected two things: one for the Camry to finally kick the bucket as something popper rather loudly under the floorboards, and second for Hannibal to come out to the car and ask Will to take him away for a while. Hannibal’s father’s car was parked in the driveway, and usually when he came over, Hannibal chose to leave, not wanting to be a part of whatever the nature of Bedelia and his father’s relationship, with old wounds never healing well. But now, as he climbed out of the car and reached for the books, he heard shouting from the house._

_He debated for a moment getting back in the car and leaving. He was sure this was a family thing, and maybe Hannibal was finally saying everything to his father he had always wanted to. But he could feel something strange on the air, and he grabbed the book, shuffling towards the door in his work clothes._

_He knocked once, but heard no answer except for something crashing to the floor. He felt the panic well up in his chest, what was happening? Was Hannibal hurt? He tested the door, it wasn’t locked, and he pushed his way inside, seeing nothing. He followed the sounds of shouting, and burst into Hannibal’s kitchen, dropping the book to the floor._

_Bedelia was standing by the kitchen already on the phone with the police, one of her hands covered in blood. Hannibal, on the other hand, had his father pinned to the ground, one of the kitchen knives from their butcher block having skittered across the flood, the end lined with what Will realized had to have been the blood from Bedelia’s hand. His father was screaming and clawing and trying to push Hannibal off of him, but Will could tell from the glazed look in his eye that he was too drunk to coordinate much beyond that._

_He was yelling in a language Will didn’t understand, most likely Lithuanian, and he could feel the anger radiating off of him like it was a sickness, pulling heavy at his bones. He gasped and caught himself at the table, dropping the book, the whole scene blurring. He could see everything for a moment, everything leading up to this. The years of a never balancing relationship with Bedelia, Mischa’s death, Hannibal’s rejection, all of it swamped over him in a tide._

_“Will. It’s alright.” He expected Hannibal to come for him, but it was Bedelia, her thin hands on his face, turning him to look at her as he realized he was on the floor._

_“Will!” This time it was Hannibal, the first time Will had heard him yell. Time had seemed to speed and slow at once, and he didn’t answer them until the police came and Hannibal had wrestled his father into one of the chairs, the effects of the alcohol making him slow-moving but violent, Hannibal’ shirt torn. He was cursing now, in English, not paying Will any mind._

_And then he was gone. And the room was mostly quiet as Bedelia left to clean her hand and cry in solitude. Will fumbled with his phone, texting his father why he was so late. He let Hannibal take the inevitable phone call, let him tell his father that they were safe and he didn’t need to come over._

_“It’s alright, Will.” Hannibal said, sitting next to him at the table, his voice soft again._

_“I thought I was over this.” Two years of therapy with Bedelia, he hadn’t had an episode so out of his control since before then. “I’m sorry, Hannibal, you’re already dealing with so much…”_

_“It’s alright, Will.” Hannibal cupped one hand around his face, turning him so Will would look at him. He felt safe, he felt calm. “Thank you for coming to me.” Will thought Hannibal was going to kiss him, and he felt a brief flutter of either panic of excitement in his chest. But his friend let go of his face, his expression changed as Will knew he must have remembered Tobias Budge and his other obligations. “You can stay the night if you like.”_

_“I’ll go home.” Will said, “Dad will worry if I don’t.” But he pulled Hannibal into a hug as they stood, taking another deep breath and wishing things could be easier for his friend. For them both._

 

“I thought you might name the child after Will’s Grandmother.” Bedelia said, peering through the bottom of her bifocals. “Or your own, Hannibal.” Hannibal smiled, thinking of his eccentric, but exceptional Lithuanian Grandmother. But he wouldn’t burden the child with a name like that, he knew exactly what it was like to grow up with an eccentric name, and while it had its merits, he wanted one that at least he and Will could both spell.

“We considered Violet.” Hannibal agreed, and with a look at Will, realized that wasn’t entirely off the table. “We haven’t made a decision.”

“Is your father on his way here?” She asked, looking over the top of the frames at Will.

“He’s in the parking garage now, if Kathy can be trusted.” He said, checking his text messages.

“She seems to be.” She turned her gaze back to Hannibal, “Have you eaten today?”

Will couldn’t help but laugh as Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, and he realized he was cornered. He took a second, grimacing bite of his turkey sandwich, attempting to disguise how much he disliked it, and Will laughed harder at the pointed look his giggle earned him.

“Excuse me, ma’am, we’re looking for some folks. A curly-headed fella’, a tall blonde man probably wearing a suit, and his mother.”

“Dad!” Will yelled, looking up to see his father and Kathy at the nurses station, having just missed them in the waiting room.

“Never mind, ma’am, he’s announced himself.” Will’s father conceded, and let Kathy help balance him as his knees failed to do so.

“He refused to take the elevator.” Kathy said, smiling over at him, and Will laughed as his father gave her the exact look he had so often given Hannibal when he was being right in the most inconvenient way.

“I’ll take the stairs as long as I can, Katherine.” His dad replied, and before Will could say anything in return, he pulled him into a hug. Will hadn’t realized the little tears that were forming in his father’s eyes, but he could feel them on his shirt collar now. “I’m so happy for you, Willy.” He said softly. And Will closed his eyes, letting the familiar embrace fill him with the same happiness he could feel radiating from a man born to be a grandfather.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, this one's hella fluffy. And also pokes fun at Chilton, which is my favorite pastime. As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

“She’s asked to see the two of you.” The doctor, her clipboard held tight to her chest, came out. She scanned the group, where Bedelia and Will’s father were discussing rising costs at the Farmer’s Market, and Kathy and Chiyoh were planning some game with a deck of cards Chiyoh had brought along in what Will thought was an incredibly large tote bag. In only the fifteen minutes since her arrival the deck of cards, two bottles of water, a copy of Reader’s digest, and a Sham-Wow had emerged from its depths. At his looks, she had explained her years of managing both Hannibal and the household had taught her to be far more prepared than one might expect they ought to be. Will had resisted the urge to sigh as Hannibal cast their own diaper bags and baby carriers a doubtful look, searching for inadequacy, even though they had checked things off the night before and that morning so that Baby Lecter-Graham would have a perfect first day of life.

“Only you two, though.” She said, and though Will's father frowned a bit and pushed his own reading glasses back up his nose, they didn’t object. “If you’ll come with me.” She turned to lead them.

“Dad,” Will said, and his dad turned, smiling as if he thought he would be the second person to go rather than Hannibal. Will smiled softly, unable to help it when he could feel the excitement and nervousness rolling off of his father. “If Beverly comes, maybe with Jimmy and Brian, please make sure they know where we are. And try to reign them in, please.”

His dad laughed at that, and even Bedelia smiled. “I’ll do my best, bud, but I don’t think Beverly is the type to be reigned in.” Will knew that exact fact. God only knew what she had planned, and he didn’t want to terrify the waiting room full of other expectant parents.

He ran to catch up to them, ready to apologize, but Hannibal just took his hand as they walked, radiating an unusual amount of calm. Will breathed a long trail of relief, the weight of the day would hit him on occasion. He and Hannibal would have their child soon. He would be a father, officially at least since he would be lying if he said he hadn’t been bonding with the idea of a child since the thought had first come up. They would be a family.

He smiled, making sure to keep it on his face as the doctor led them into the room where Leta Hobbs sat on the bed, caressing her own stomach, sweating slightly. Will could feel the relief though, and, as her hand stilled against her stomach, the pride that they would be the ones raising the child she carried.

 

_“How are things, Leta?” Hannibal asked carefully. It was not a question generally used and was typically too vague to get at the heart of most issues. But he was curious for her health. She was closing in on the end of her second trimester, and he could see the fatigue that plagued her now. He wished for a moment for a touch of Will’s empathy: to be able to see at least an inkling of what it would be like to be her at the moment. To be pregnant in an unfamiliar place, to have killed the father of the child she was carrying, to not want the burden of motherhood to begin with. “Is Dr. Chilton treating you well?”_

_Hannibal always had to resist the urge to laugh. To think that Frederick Chilton, the “Witless Wonder” as Will had often called him from fourth grade through high school, had managed to get board certified was an amusing thought. He decided it had to be at least, or he would find it far more troubling that he had managed to get into a position of power._

_“Dr. Chilton is an asshat.” She said, and he tried his best to hide his smile. But she was too smart…she noticed too much for him to hide it, and grinned back at him with a look of smug satisfaction. “I don’t know what kind of strings you have, but if you could get them to stop having butterscotch pudding as the go-to dessert, I would appreciate it, Dr. Lecter.”_

_“I will do what I can.” He said, and made a note with every intention. “Tell me Leta, what have you done since we last spoke.”_

_“I’ve spent most of my time isolated, extremely horny, and talking to this baby that doesn’t exist yet.” Hannibal kept his composure, knowing that both the words and now the appraising look she was giving him were meant to unbalance him. She trusted him, but just enough._

_“To have hormonal reactions is normal at this stage in your pregnancy.” He said calmly, and she laughed._

_“I know.” She said, “They gave me a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ when they gave me my first round of pre-natal vitamins.” She nearly snorted, “I just didn’t think I’d want to jump Barney everytime he brings my dinner, and I didn’t think I’d be thinking about the two of us the way I am right now.” He started to speak, to confirm that couldn’t happen, but she waved her hand. “I’m aware, Dr. Lecter, that you’re married. I’m not trying to sleep with you. Just being honest. You’re not my type anyway.” She added, to lighten the tone._

_“Your type?” He smiled gently._

_“Are you a serial killer?” He did blink then. She laughed at her own expense. “Then clearly not my type.”_

_“It’s not often you speak of your late husband, Leta.”_

_“I don’t like to talk about him.” She replied. “Since I’m here to talk, I like to talk about things I enjoy talking about.”_

_“Like cafeteria pudding?”_

_“Like cafeteria pudding.”_

_He sat, almost unsure of how to continue. Clearly, in the way she was sitting, something was bothering her. She was tense. Uncomfortable. In the two months he had been seeing her, she had become less and less adept at hiding her emotions from him. Perhaps he was just better at reading her. Will had told him it was because he was easy to react to. Either way, the fact remained._

_“Can I ask you something?” She said suddenly, breaking their silence. She looked at him as if she expected a rejection._

_“There are certain things I cannot answer, but you are welcome to ask. If I can share with you, I will gladly do so.”_

_“Do you want a family, Dr. Lecter?”_

_Hannibal thought for a moment. His family at the moment consisted of one Professor and FBI consultant, a retired psychiatrist, a Adult Education tutor, an aging Japanese caregiver, and a full-time mechanic, part-time salesman. He wouldn’t change them for anything, but there were times where he could imagine a child for him and Will to raise together. In his dreams, though he knew it would likely never happen, it was always a child with Will’s dark curls and sense of humor. A child he could teach piano and harpsichord and how to prepare the food he liked to splurge and prepare for himself and Will on occasion. A smiling baby or toddler that would run through the house, messing up the seeming perfection; one he could hold and heal their tiny heartbeat against his chest as he settled them down in their crib. One he could take school shopping or watch get dressed in their fishing gear to go with Will._

_“I have considered the notion.”_

_“Why haven’t you then?”_

_“My and I have had various conversations. We are not sure what the best option for us would be.”_

_She was quiet for a moment. Such a long moment that Hannibal took a drink, and was debating cutting the session short since they seemed to be getting nowhere._

_“I had a thought, Dr. Lecter.” She said again, softly this time, as if she were almost afraid to voice it. “You can tell me what you think…”_

 

“Hello, Leta.” Hannibal said as soon as they entered, disentangling himself from Will’s hand to go to the other side of the bed. “How are you?”

“Are we in session, Dr. Lecter?” She said dryly, and Hannibal watched as Will couldn’t help but laugh. Leta Hobbs was much closer to Hannibal in almost every way, but there had been times since their own meeting that the pair had bonded, mostly at Hannibal’s very mild expense, over their shared senses of humor. “I’m fine. The contractions are getting closer. I’m dilating. They think we’ll be ready to go soon.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Will said, and Hannibal knew he could start to feel the same roil of tightness in his stomach as she felt another contraction, watching his face and voice reflect that. She watched him for a moment, her face exhausted, but not judgmental.

“If you could get me some more ice, I would appreciate it.” She said finally, and they both waited until Will had left to the nurses station, holding the pink pitcher in his hands, before they spoke.

“He’ll be a good father.” She said, almost wistfully as Will left.

“If you are having second thoughts, Leta…” Hannibal said, though the words hurt leaving his chest.

“I’m not,” She interrupted and turned around. “I mostly wanted to ask, before all of this medical business starts, what you planned to name her.”

“We were looking at names before we came in, actually.” Hannibal smiled, “We weren’t sure.”

“Don’t name her after me, Dr. Lecter.” Despite Hannibal’s insistence that she call him Hannibal, she had always used the moniker they had begun their relationship with, even though technically Alana Bloom was now her psychiatrist as their relationship was complex and more than borderline inappropriate for a Doctor-Patient scenario. “Nothing after me. I want all of this behind her.”

Hannibal blinked. They had almost been set on that as her middle name, to honor the woman who had given them a family. But if that was her wish, they would fulfill it. “Of course.” He said, and patted her hand with his own. “There are many people excited to meet her.” He smiled again. “How are things at your new home?”

Through Hannibal’s work, she had been acquitted of all charges, citing evidence of Stockholm syndrome, and self-defense. But she had nothing upon leaving the hospital, and he had worked alongside Alana tirelessly to find her a shelter for women escaping desperate situations. Through Will’s Stepmother, they had gotten her enrolled in Adult education courses to get her prepared to enter college, and through an old friend, Hannibal had gotten her a clerical job outside the city. It would not be a perfectly easy life, but he had done what he could for her, what she would allow at least, and for that, he was happy.

“I start school in three weeks.” She said, and laughed gently. “Hard to believe that this will be mostly behind me in three weeks.” She turned to him. Her hair and face looked much the same as it had when she entered his office months before. But she looked older, too, hardened by choices she had been forced to make. She reached for his hand as they heard Will talking to the elderly nurse, Denise, outside the privacy curtain about how he would be more responsible when getting ice the next time.

“Thank you, Dr. Lecter, for everything.” She said, and he felt a tear at his eye, though he dared not to let it fall. Leta Hobbs was not one for sentiment, and he wouldn’t ruin what she was offering him by crying too much.

“Thank you, Denise.” Will grumbled, and pushed back the curtain, spilling more cubes on the floor. He looked at them both and smiled sheepishly, setting the pitcher down so she could take one and pop it into her mouth.

“We were discussing names, Will.” Hannibal said, and leaned back as Will practically fell back into the chair with a sigh of relief at not being fussed at by the nurse. “Leta has asked we not name the child for her in any capacity.”

If Will was surprised, his face didn’t show it, and Hannibal quickly moved on. “Have you thought of anything?”

“Yeah.” He said, and shifted in his seat, not meeting either of their eyes for a moment. Hannibal watched, Will’s almost ill-fitting jacket getting caught by a button on the chair handle. “What about Abbigail?”

“Abbigail?” Hannibal let the name settle on his tongue. It was a surprise, not a name he had heard Will mention before. Will nodded, almost vigorously. “Was that one in the book?”

“No.” Will said, and his face reddened. “I was talking to dad before we came in.” he shifted in his seat, and Hannibal didn’t look down at Leta, who must had thought something was wrong with Will. “It’s my mother’s name. I…I, umm, thought it might be nice for a second chance.”

Hannibal blinked, picturing Abigail Graham-Lecter is his arms, smiling up at him, her name working its way into a thousand shared conversations. And he smiled.

“It’s beautiful.” Hannibal said, finally, and he cleared his own throat, ready to lay flat his own secret wish, one he had been resting on since they first learned of the child. “What about Mischa for their middle name? I think you may be right about second chances.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the great response! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well! To answer a couple of questions: Will and Hannibal are in their mid-30's here, along with Beverly, Jimmy, Brian, and the like. Also, if you have never heard "Africa" by Toto, I recommend looking it up when you get to that part. It's a fantastic example of an 80's power love ballad. 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

Hannibal was walking towards the lobby, ready to step in when he saw one thing that stopped him, and heard another. The first was that the area where Bedelia, Chiyoh, Kathy, and Kit had been sitting had been turned into an elaborate decorative font. A massive banner, clearly professionally made, said “Welcome Baby Graham-Lecter” in large black letters, the border decorated with soft green, pink, and blue edgings, with the outlines of deer and fish around the center. There was a basket in the center, with items that didn’t seem to be for the baby, but rather for him and Will, including a couple of gift cards to their favorite restaurants (which Hannibal hoped now delivered) as well as a handmade coupon book that Hannibal suspected they could cash in for evenings of babysitting once Abbigail was old enough and they were willing to let her out of their sight. But, despite the fact that it was clearly their work, there was no sign of Beverly, Brian, or Jimmy (possibly even Timmy, though Hannibal had never actually met Jimmy’s enigmatic twin).  The grandparents and Chiyoh were also missing, though not for long.

“I can’t believe they took the time to make this.” He heard Bedelia say softly, right around the corner he was about to step out of. He watched as other people came in, walking past the large set-up in slight awe and perhaps even mild jealousy. “It’s beautiful.”

“No wonder they’re hungry. I remember when Will was born,” He heard Will’s father say back, his voice softer than usual even though it was still a little gruff. “My friend Randy brought me the newspaper, and mom was there. That was about it.”

“They have wonderful friends.” Bedelia agreed, and Hannibal could hear her turning the pages of the book.

“It’s a little crazy to think that my baby is getting his own baby.”

Hannibal smiled at the statement. If anyone had been more excited, nervous, and attached to Abbigail, it was Will’s father. To hear him refer to Will as his baby was not anything new to Hannibal, but he still thought it was sweet. It had made him sad, at first, to consider his own father, on probation and trying to piece his life together. But the more time they had spent with him, his weathered hands helping them to put together a crib and the other furniture with more than ‘some’ assembly required, the more it had made him happy. Will’s father was an exceptional man, and if he grew to be half as adept as a father as that, he would count himself satisfied with his life.

“I remember when Hannibal was born,” Bedelia laughed softly, not at anything funny except herself. “I was so afraid. He was so fragile.”

“Doesn’t ever really go away.” And he heard Bedelia make a noise of agreement. “I told Beverly not to put my picture in there.”

Hannibal saw this as an opportune moment to step into the lobby, trying not to let the sentiment of it all weigh on him. He turned to the left, Bedelia and Will’s father sitting with their heads close together, looking at some kind of book, turning thick pages slowly. “We’re in room 214.” He said slowly, and both of them looked up, smiling.

“You weren’t supposed to see the surprise!” Will’s dad exclaimed, jumping slightly. “I don’t know how you move that quietly, Will’s loud as Hell.” Hannibal laughed, subtlety was indeed not Will’s strong suit.

“What is that?”

“Beverly and Jimmy made it.” Bedelia said, closing it and handing it to him.

“She’s expected to start the delivery within the next half hour.” Hannibal said, holding it in his hands. “I just wanted to let you all know.”

“214?” Will’s father asked, letting out a nervous breath and reaffixing his glasses. Hannibal nodded.

“I’m going to show this to Will. I’ll bring it back here in just a moment.”

And he stepped away, pretending not to hear Bedelia trying to soothe Will’s father even as her own voice was full of nerves.

 

_Will wasn’t sure how he had come to be holding the newspaper, but he was certain Beverly was to blame. He wasn’t even sure how he had gotten a newspaper, but he would ask her when she got out of the bathroom where it had come from. Ever since she and Jimmy had gotten into trying to predict the future after their social studies unit on ancient mythologies, the pair had been trying to predict everyone’s future. She had told him that today, something huge would happen to him. Apparently something huge enough for him to hold onto a newspaper to save the date. Will Graham had doubts: it was rare that anything special really happened._

_But it was the 8 th grade dance, and the gym did look like a whole new place. He watched Frederick and Franklyn move from the punch bowl to the dance floor where Madonna’s less risqué music was playing loudly. His dad had told him to request Africa by Toto if it got to the point he wanted to ask someone to dance, and ever since he had told Beverly about that, she hadn’t let it go. _

_She and Brian were on their first official date, and Will couldn’t but feel as though he were intruding, even though Jimmy was also there. He wished that Hannibal was there, but Tobias had invited him, and the pair was standing by the snack table, even though Will had to smile because there was very little chance Hannibal would eat anything off of the table. They hadn’t done much dancing that Will had seen, but he had briefly asked himself why he cared so much. He decided to stop watching and instead to enjoy himself. Briand and Jimmy came back with punch: Brian dressed like Will in a black suit (Will had borrowed his dad’s suit jacket which was way too big in the shoulders), but Jimmy was in a soft purple tuxedo. Timmy Price, who was currently making out with an eighth grader named Andrea next to the bleachers, was wearing a similar suit, only it was blue._

_“I put in the song request, Will.” Will looked up, having not heard her come back from the bathroom._

_“Bev! What the hell?” He asked, and Brian laughed._

_“Come on, Will!” She said, and put her hand on his shoulder. He wasn’t used to seeing her wear so much make-up, and was not surprised when some of the glitter from her nails got onto his jacket. “I know you want to dance with someone.” He stared at her while Brian and Jimmy pretended to be paying attention to other things._

_“Really, Bev?” He snorted. “Who do you think that is?” He heard the opening notes to the song start. Kathy had told him once that it was his father’s go-to romantic song, and she knew that if it came on, it meant they might go dinner or watch a movie, or do something together. He had come into the living room to find them dancing to it one time. Will could appreciate the sentiment, but now the pressure was on._

_“Penguin looks pretty lonely.” She said pointedly, smirking for a second before pulling Brian onto the dancefloor._

_“Beverly!” He called after her, before looking over at Hannibal, who was now standing alone the punch bowl, looking a little lost. He was in a really nice suit, so nice that Will wasn’t even sure what the fabric mix was, that emphasized the fact that Hannibal was taller than most people in their grade. He was already running track for the high school, while most of the seventh graders could barely scale the hurdles. Will looked around, seeing Tobias talking to Franklyn and Frederick, Hannibal putting his hands in his pockets._

_The start of the lyrics started, and Will sighed. He put the newspaper in the inside pocket of his jacket, and headed for him._

_“Hannibal.” He tried not to blush at the way Hannibal’s face lit up when he saw him._

_“Hello, Will.” He said over the music, “How are you?”_

_“I’m good.” He said, and pushed a hand through his hair, straightening his glasses unconsciously. “Where’s Tobias?”_

_“Oh.” Hannibal said, and his face fell for a fleeting moment. “He is over there. I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment if you wanted to talk to him…”_

_“No!” Said Will quickly. “I just…I wanted to see if you were free…If maybe you…” Hannibal looked almost confused, a little fearful._

_“Would you maybe want to dance?” Will said, “I requested the song.” Almost the truth._

_Then Hannibal was beaming, “Okay,” He said, and he took Will’s outstretched palm in his own, moving them both out. As they started dancing, Will knew he didn’t know what he was doing, and that he was probably biased in saying that he and Hannibal still looked the best out there on the floor as Hannibal clearly did know exactly what he was doing. Will felt almost breathless, as if his body were moving suspended. He felt Hannibal press closer to him, probably just a natural motion of them swinging moving together to the beat of the music, and the newspaper in his pocket crinkle at the contact. It wasn’t fast motion, but the more they went, the more the world around them seemed to almost disappear until it was just them and the music._

_Will heard the last bridge of the song pick up, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was almost mad at his father for being right about the song which made him feel both alive and completely out of his own body at the same time. He looked up at Hannibal, who’s face was light with genuine happiness. Will’s mind wandered for a second, wondering if Hannibal ever got acne like the rest of them since his face was always clear, and how, even though Hannibal’s teeth were slightly crooked, he didn’t change them with braces the way almost everyone had. It made him different. He had always been different to Will._

_A strange feeling came over Will, as the last notes of the song started to fade and they moved slowly now, barely moving at all. He lifted a hand up, to Hannibal’s face, his fingers barely touching the edge of his slicked-back blonde hair. Hannibal must have been thinking the same thing, even Will watched him swallow his nerves. Fighting his own fear, Will leaned forward and kissed him: his first kiss, their first kiss._

 

“I can’t believe they made this.” Will opened the pages of the book that Beverly and Jimmy had made. The pages were full of information about everything: the first section was devoted to Abbigail, with spaces for her first pictures from the hospital, and the little information cards to fill out with her name and length and weight. There was a picture of the hospital, and the name of her doctor and nurses. There was a picture of their house, and the cars they drove. All of it to be filled out after Abbigail joined them in the world.

The second section was for Hannibal and Will. “Daddy” said the page with a picture of Will running one of his lectures at Quantico. It had his full name and his birthday, his career and his college. One the right side of the same fold was “Papa” with a picture of Hannibal the day that his practice had opened, his name (and nickname) and all the same information as Will. The following pages were their story together, from the framed picture Will still had from kindergarten Trick-or-Treat, and the picture of their kindergarten wedding, through to their actual wedding.

“I can’t believe she found that newspaper.” Will touched a clipping from the newspaper that was the same day as their seventh-grade dance. Their picture from their first day as college roommates. A picture a woman had taken at the carnival that had been their first actual date in their junior year. Their first apartment together. Will’s doctoral acceptance ceremony. Even a picture of Winston, who had passed shortly after Will had started high school.

“Beverly has named us yet again.” Hannibal said softly, and Will felt a tear at his eye as Hannibal’s lips brushed the back of his hand. “I’m happy to be a Papa.”

“Papa Penguin.” Will corrected, and Hannibal laughed gently. There was a page for Bedelia and for his father and Kathy. There was a page for Chiyoh and one for Hannibal’s father. Then there was a page for Aunt Beverly, Uncle Brian, and Uncle Jimmy, and a letter that said, “not to be opened until February 7th” on what would be Abigail’s 18th birthday. Will smiled and closed the book. They sat in silence for a moment, Leta having been moved to the birth and delivery area, where they would be following her shortly in just a few minutes.

“Are you ready?” He asked Hannibal, looking over at him, hand still clasped to his.

“With you, William, I will always be ready for anything.” He said and together they rose to return the book to the lobby crew and tell them it was beginning. Very soon they would have a child to call their own and the pages of the book would be overflowing.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y'all! sorry for the delay, this week has been absolutely insane! Thank you all for your support!
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

At the end of a string of heavy breaths, there was suddenly a heavy weight in his arms. Squirming and soft and bloody and, if he had to admit, somewhat terrifying. He clung for dear life, his own and the small babies’ that was wrapped safely now against his chest, ruining his aquamarine outerwear. He felt almost as if he couldn’t breathe, totally overwhelmed in finally a way that didn’t feel threatening.

“She’s perfect.” Hannibal’s voice sounded in his ear, and it was almost as if he were some distant voice far away, but his body was solid, pressed against him, his forehead on the side of Will’s head.

“She’s ours.” Will said back, mostly to himself. He stayed in a daze as they cut the umbilical cord and they took her away for a few minutes to clean her and wash the blood from the soft, dark brown hair that was pressed flat to her head. When they brought her back, he watched Hannibal take her, swaddled in a green blanket as per their request, and was mesmerized by the simpleness he felt. The happiness, even as she let out little cries and squirmed in his arms. How tired she was, even as she tried to take in the world around them with big, blue eyes.

“Would you like to meet her, Leta?” Hannibal asked. Will looked over at her, exhausted but in her usual state of contemplation. Finally, since the first time Will had met her, she actually looked her age of nineteen. Confused, slightly lost, but determined.

“No, Dr. Lecter.” She said, even with a smile, she isn’t mine to meet.

“If you all will follow me, then.” The Doctor spoke, but Will hesitated. This might be the last time he saw, Abigail saw, anyone saw Leta Hobbs. It felt wrong to leave her.

“If you ever need anything, Leta…” He started to say, avoiding her steady stare.

“Make sure she doesn’t.” And he knew it was both a response and a dismissal.

 

_“I have exciting news for you, Will.” He hated the guidance counselor’s office, mostly because his counselor treated him like he was three years old and illiterate. Btu she had been incredibly helpful in the last few months, especially since his father and Kathy had done what they could, but they lacked a lot of the resources he needed. She had gotten him ACT Prep books and scholarship applications, application fee waivers and the money to go on tours. He couldn’t look too much beyond Baltimore, unless he went with Beverly or Hannibal or even one trip with Jimmy, but she had done more than what her job called for, for certain._

_“What’s that, Mrs. Stammet?” He asked, sitting down across from her, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Her office was decorated with flag pennants, college brochures, tips and tricks for passing your exams. All things that certainly kept stock photo companies in business. Will had one wall pennant that Hannibal had gotten him for his birthday for the one undergraduate program he really wanted to attend. He could always dream._

_“Well, as I’m certain you know, you’ve been accepted at William and Mary!”  She said, and Will almost sighed at her cheerful tone. He had been accepted, and he was beyond thrilled. William and Mary had been his dream school since the beginning of 8 th grade, and after his visit there with Hannibal and Bedelia, he had fallen even more in love. But the price tag, more than $40,000 dollars per year, was well beyond what they could ever hope to afford and that he could ever hope to pay back. _

_“Yes, ma’am,” was all he said in response._

_“Well, I know that was your main goal, so I took the liberty of recommending you for a service and work scholarship on campus through the Newman Foundation. I found out this morning that you have been accepted for your first round of interviews!” She said brightly, and Will felt like his soul was lifting. “They’re on campus, so I’m working on getting funding, but I don’t think it will happen. But another student is also attending their scholarship weekend, so I thought you could possibly go with him?”_

_“Holy shit.” Will said, louder than intended, and felt his face go red, even as she kept smiling. “Who is it?”_

_“Hannibal Lecter,” she replied, “I took the liberty of getting his information for you so you could connect!”_

_Will grinned. He more than grinned. A scholarship weekend, at his dream school, with his best friend? He tried not to let himself feel that glimmer of hope that he might actually get it. These things were competitive, and he might not. But then again, why shouldn’t he? It was his dad’s often repeated mantra that had kept him applying to schools like that in the first place._

_“I’m so happy for you, Will.” She put her hand on his and smiled bigger. “You let me know about Hannibal, okay?”_

 

Hannibal held his daughter, sitting on the edge of the bed in a room that they had been moved into so that Leta could have her privacy while she recovered. Will was gone to get the family and bring them back, so as not to upset the baby now sleeping in his arms, though Hannibal was almost certain he had seen Will’s fathers head pass by the window at least a dozen times during the delivery: pacing in worry, no doubt.

“Hello, Abigail.” He said, and she blinked her eyes open. She didn’t do much, only up at him and latch her hand around his index finger. “Papa loves you.” He told himself that the smile he saw wasn’t real, just a trick of his mind, but it was hard not to believe it. He could feel the love for her already swelling in his chest. Only to one other person had he ever felt this strongly connected, the only other person who had ever truly understood him, the man who was now herding his nanny, mother, in-laws, and friends into the hospital room to meet their child.

He stood up. “This is your family, Abigail.” He said, and turned his arm so that they could see the little pink shape blinking up at them. He saw Will watch his father for any kind of negative response to the name, but there was none. Will’s father closed a fist over his mouth, crying and smiling. Kathy coo-ed automatically at the small shape.

“Can I hold her?” Bedelia asked, and stepped up close, her own eyes softer than Hannibal had seen them in a very long time. It was strange, to lose the warmth against his chest, but as he watched Abigail snuggle against Bedelia, he couldn’t help but smile with a face that matched his mother’s. He moved to stand next to Will as Chiyoh stepped closer to observe the baby, her expression giving away very little as usual, but Hannibal could tell she was happy for them.

“I think she looks more like Will.” Brian said, pretending to whisper to Jimmy.

“Look at those cheekbones. Penguin all the way.” Was the faux-ly whispered response from Jimmy. Hannibal laughed, happy to have them there, even as Beverly exposed Abigail early to violence by punching Brian on the arm.

“Thank you for your gift outside, Beverly.” He said, “I know you all put a lot of work into it. The book is lovely.”

She winked at him, and, after a moment of internal contemplation, stepped over and hugged him. It was nice, and not often that Hannibal was physically affectionate with people other than Will. He couldn’t remember Beverly ever hugging him before except one night when she was intoxicated and he was the only one sober enough to move her to the couch. An odd thought to be thinking at the moment.

“You’re welcome, Penguin.” She said, stepping back. “Thank you for letting us be here.”

“Hi there, Abby.” He looked up as the child was transferred into Will’s father’s arms, clearly knowing he had waited long enough to hold her. “I’m your Papaw.” She gurgled a little response, and he laughed out loud, giddy and loose. He felt a hand on his shoulder, moving over to his neck and he turned to Will.

“We have a daughter.” His husband whispered.

“We have a whole family.” He replied and pressed a gentle kiss to Will’s lips.

 

_“Thank you again, Dr. du Maurier, for letting me go with you.” Will rode behind Bedelia in her Mercedes, feeling a little rude since he had fallen asleep in the car. Mr. Lawson had let him leave work for the weekend, but he had tried to make up for lost hours the last few days, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep. It didn’t seem to bother Bedelia, however, who was listening to Japanese Classical Compositions (apparently a gift from Chiyoh), or Hannibal who was doing their English IV reading for Monday._

_“It’s no problem at all, Will.” She said, “I’m sorry your father couldn’t make it.”_

_Will was sorry too, but not as sorry as his father had been. The man had spent most of the last two weeks in distress about it, wanting to be there to support Will, but knowing that he couldn’t afford to leave work for three whole days. So instead, he had picked up two extra mechanic shifts and Will now had a brand new suit jacket in his hanging bag, ready for his interview the next day._

_“What is the program you are applying for again?”_

_“The Newman Program.” He said, and watched out the window at the snow that blurred past them on the interstate. “You do 10 hours of service or designated activism work per week and attend regular meetings and events through the program.”_

_“It sounds excellent.” Hannibal responded. “I think you’ll get it for certain.” Will smiled back at him._

_It was the most Hannibal had said in a while, not that their friendship had ever hinged on that. After he and Tobias had ended their nearly three-year relationship, he had become quiet once again in the aftermath of it. It worried Will, but Hannibal didn’t seem particularly in distress at the moment, so he continued as normal._

_“Thanks,” Said Will, knowing how nervous he sounded. “I know you’ll do well, too. I’ve seen you interview before, you’ll do incredible.” Hannibal smiled back, and looked at Will with an expression so strong Will had to look away again. Bedelia started talking about her own college search and how exciting it had all been, though there were much fewer options in her day for this sort of thing._

_Will half-listened, his heart hammering. He sucked in a heavy breath and tried to calm himself as the colonial architecture came into view and what he hoped might be his future home came into view in front of him_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Sorry for the delay, my schedule continues to get heavier, but these give me a chance to relax from academic writing. As always, I hope you enjoy, please R and R!

_“Your mail’s on the table, bud.” His father told him as he came into the house, the man sitting reading his copy of Better Homes and Gardens in the armchair._

_“Couldn’t sleep, dad?” He asked, more than understanding._

_“Nope.” He responded, smiling a little sadly. “Too nervous, but Kathy is teaching her early morning so I came in here so she could have some peace.”_

_Will laughed, careful to do it quietly, and went into the kitchen. Thanks to his guidance counselor, he had gotten letters from colleges nearly every day. But now, since application deadlines had passed and it was full into scholarship season, they had slowed down into the colleges he had actually applied to. He tried not to feel a little bitter when he found the first part of his stack only containing confirmations from the local community college. Not that he was opposed to going, but he wanted to get his criminal psychology degree so bad he could almost taste it, and if he stayed at the community college, he new he would never get there._

_Then, at the bottom of the stack was a letter from William and Mary. He blinked, the envelope was thin. Not a scholarship packet, not an anything from what he could tell. He had thought that scholarship went well: he had managed to hold eye contact, to talk about how he and his dad did poverty outreach through the farmer’s market in their neighborhood, and how he and Beverly had worked with Kathy at the adult education center, and how he worked full-time, and about his standardized test scores, and about how he had always wanted to come to William and Mary and how he had an idea for an student-run opiod addiction clinic for his scholarship based project if they chose him. He thought he had done fine. But with such a thin piece of paper…._

_He felt his dad come into the room, hovering in the doorway as eh turned it over and started to pull it open, heart in his chest. He knew that his dad knew what was at stake. He had other scholarship options, maybe, but his dad knew that this was the best, closest, and most important to Will._

Dear Mr. Graham,

We are happy to inform you that you have been accepted as a Newman Foundation Scholar for the upcoming school year…

_He didn’t read the rest at first because he was shouting. And then he was in the air as his dad lifted him clean off of his feet and spun him around like he hadn’t done since Will’s seventh birthday._

 

“I don’t think going the speed limit will hurt, Abigail, Hannibal.” Hannibal glared over at him from the driver’s seat, unamused by Will’s snark. “But what do I know?” His husband continued. “You’re the doctor.”  And he laughed, his eyes glittering in the white sheen off the snow on the sides of the road.

“Road conditions are hazardous, William,” He said, trying his hardest not to be caught up in Will’s almost giddiness. “I am merely being cautious.”

When he glanced over again, Will was half turned to the backseat, looking at Abigail who watched him back with pale eyes, one of her arms reaching out to wrap around one of Will’s outstretched fingers.

“Abigail says she doesn’t mind if Papa drives faster.” Hannibal smiled then, not able to help himself. He did not, however, speed up, and the houses continued to pass them at a snail’s pace. He was also happy that Will hadn’t resigned himself to speaking like a baby. It was damaging to children’s language development and understanding and cognitive function.

“I am sure that she would agree with me, then. Abigail seems perfectly reasonable.”

Eventually they reached their destination, and Will moved immediately to the back of the car to begin pulling out all of Abigail’s items, including the banner and basket from their friends, while Hannibal moved to put her into her carrier. Chiyoh had brought a cover to keep the cold air out of her face and keep her from getting sick. He moved her carefully out of her car seat, fastening her securely in her holder even as she squirmed and wriggled, her tongue sticking out at him.

“You are being very well-behaved, Abigail.” He said, and pulled the cover around the edges. She made a little noise at him, her eyes closing. She was still very new to the world, and Hannibal found it quite amazing that she had settled herself so comfortably in his heart in only a little more than 24 hours of life. He had been loathe to leave her the night before, even though the nurse had told him they had to and had reassured him, as though he were a child, that she would be there for them to collect the next day. “It is not common practice to let patients less than 24 hours old leave the hospital.” He had calmly assured the woman of his medical degree, but Will had managed to drag them along nonetheless.

“This is your new home.” He said to the now covered basket as they crunched across the snow-dotted lawn. “You’ll see your father’s influence as well when we get inside. He’s much more a fan of wooden decoration than I am.” He could feel her squirming around in her basket, perhaps not liking the feeling of being carried, though he suspected that would chance. Most babies he had met loved the time spent in their little carriers, or in the arms of adults who always wanted to hold them. If Will had thought it was difficult to get Hannibal to put her down, he was yet to experience Will’s own father’s insistence on holding her as long as he could.

He set the basket on the table, peeling back the cover carefully so as not to drop any of the light snow onto the unsuspecting baby. Wills tumbled in behind him, arms laden with bags.

“Would you like a tour, mano gražus kūdikis?” He asked softly, as she reached up a tiny hand to tap his nose. He grinned and her fingers instead ventured to his mouth, touching his teeth that had never been quite straight and had caused him so much anxiety as a child, now long forgotten. He instead hoped that heaven might be real so that his grandmother, who had taught him Lithuanian to speak when the English wouldn’t come, might see this and be happy.

“What’s that mean?” Will asked returning from their room where everything had been deposited.

“My beautiful baby.” Hannibal answered, smiling at her even wider, her blue eyes tracking his every move, reacting to the sound of his voice.

He felt Will’s hands on his shoulders, then his sides, then wrapping around his waist, pressing the underside of his chin to Hannibal’s shoulder. He turned, taking in Will’s face, one the happiest expression he had ever seen on Will’s face ingrained in his features and in his smile and in his eyes that smiled as broadly as his lips. He hadn’t seen Will like this, so pure in joy, since their wedding.

He leaned down, curving a hand around Will’s jaw like he used to when the man needed grounding and something to latch onto, but that had become a type of reminiscent intimacy for the pair of them. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the corner of Will’s mouth, closing his eyes.

“Should we kiss so freely in front of our child?” He teased.

“I doubt she’ll remember enough to be traumatized.” And Will sealed their lips together, the sounds of Abigail’s soft coo’s, ready to see her new home, sounded behind them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is considerably darker, and features a near-canon Mason Verger moment. Nothing is explicit, but there are hints of things to keep in mind. Anywho, as always, I hope you enjoy, please R and R, let me know what you think!

Will was surprised at how well both Abigail and Hannibal were sleeping. He supposed that having to deal with so much of the world at one time had exhausted his daughter until she was actually sleeping rather soundly in the crib that his father had helped construct. He couldn’t sleep, and instead was sitting, watching her squirm on the soft blankets, having left the warmth of his and Hannibal’s bed so as not to disturb the man with his constant fidgeting, waiting on the baby monitor to wake one of them.

Now, sitting in his soft pajamas, half covered with the quilt that his grandmother had given them at their actual wedding, he was thinking of how strange it was that they had another, tiny person living with them. For so long, it had seemed as though he might be alone, then that they might be alone together. But now, they had Abigail, who he could tell was going to be the best loved child in existence, despite her biological parents’ rough starts. His mind had wondered to Leta, to Garret Jacob Hobbs, whom he had refused on principle to include in any case studies in his lectures, but it wondered back just as easily.

After his initial nervousness had subsided, and he had accepted that Abigail either was really asleep orquite good at pretending, he had gone through some of the old photos his dad had apparently gotten out for Beverly to use for the book if she wanted.

The pictures from kindergarten, from Will’s birthday “party” which had consisted of Will, his father, Hannibal, Beverly, Jimmy, Brian, Alana Bloom, Margot Verger, Franklyn Froidevioux, Tobias Budge, Reba McClane, and Francis Dolarhyde going ice fishing at one of the big local ponds tracts. The picture was of everyone except Will’s dad, who had held up the camera.

He had run careful fingers over it, thinking of how different things were now: that there was certainly a reason Beverly had not included that picture. How Hannibal and Tobias had dated for years from middle school until spring of senior year when everyone, Will included, thought they would end up married right after graduation. How Franklyn had pined over Hannibal for years for unknown reasons before he and Frederick Chilton had actually settled in together and Franklyn was a management consultant at the same firm they used for their taxes each April.

Francis Dolarhyde and Reba McClane had ended up married after all, they had moved west where Reba could do Blind Community Activism and Frances was a pediatric dentist unless Will was mistaken. He hadn’t seen them in years, and Hannibal was the only one with any kind of social media to speak of, so he was entirely dependent. Beverly and Jimmy and Brian had all gone to school together, and had only been an intermittent presence in Will’s life until Beverly had ended up at Hopkins with both him and Hannibal for forensics grad school. He doubted she and Brian would ever get married, Jimmy was still preoccupied trying to cohabitate with Timmy who Will thought might be a taxi driver, though his careers changed almost weekly from all accounts.

Alana Bloom was his psychiatrist, and she was living happily with her wife, Margot, and their son Morgan. Their brief stint into dating was something Will considered a deep point in his past, and he far outweighed her friendship against it. Margot was a different matter: she wasn’t unfriendly, but after everything Hannibal had done to Mason during their senior year of high school, he couldn’t hardly look at her, even if Mason was in jail.

 

_“Shit, Will, stop walking so fast.” Beverly slurred a little behind him, not drunk, but not sober either. He pushed through the throng of people at the Verger estate, sidestepping Frederick and Franklyn who smelled like Peach Schnapps and bad decisions and who were latched together, not quite kissing, but also not quite doing anything else._

_He could feel himself getting overwhelmed: the music was loud, there were too many people, all crowded around him, their emotions out of control. He hadn’t touched any alcohol, he had promised Bev a ride home, but he also hadn’t known Hannibal would be here. He rarely came to parities, not that Will was a big partier either, but Hannibal had been texting him only a few minutes ago before he had stopped mid-conversation._

_“I know he’s here, Will, let’s check some of the other rooms.” Will spotted Tobias budge on one of the loveseats, talking to a girl named Freddie, but he glared at Will as he walked by. It was not a secret that he blamed Will for the end of their relationship. Will personally thought that was insanity at its most basic definition, but he didn’t have time for that now. It was very unlike Hannibal to say something he shouldn’t._

_“Was he drinking?” He asked Beverly._

_“Most people are?” She waved her beer in her hand._

_“Hannibal doesn’t usually drink, Beverly.” He clipped back, kicking open a room to find it empty. The house was fucking huge, he might never find him. “Is anybody else missing?”_

_“I don’t know.” She was thinking hard, peaking around his shoulder as they kicked open more doors on people trying to make out or smoke weed where they wouldn’t be noticed. “Mason Verger?”_

_Will stopped and turned around. “What?” IT took a second for her alcohol-addled mind to understand, but as soon as he started slamming doors open with extra force, she seemed to understand._

_“Hannibal!” He yelled into the ones he couldn’t see, not caring at the annoyed shouts he got back. He could feel panic setting in. What would Mason do? The guy was a fucking creep, and clearly he wasn’t really invited to the party since everyone was friends with Margot because he didn’t have any friends. He was homeschooled now after he had inappropriate contact with some kids at a summer camp he was supposed to be working at. And, to top all of that off, he hated Hannibal. And he had since kindergarten._

_There were only a few doors left, and he couldn’t hear what Beverly was saying at him for all the blood rushing into his ears. Maybe that Hannibal was okay, maybe that everything would be fine. He didn’t listen because he didn’t believe her._

_He kicked open a final door. “Hannibal!” He yelled into the dark, seeing a couple of shapes on what was either a bed or a couch._

_“Shhhhhhh,” Was the reply he got back. “He’s sleeping.” And a laugh as Mason Verger moved off of Hannibal. And Will didn’t think he had any control over himself for what happened next, because the next thing he remembered was a police officer asking him questions, taking blood off of his hands for evidence, nearly promising Will that he wouldn’t be charged for assault. And Hannibal, still lying there, eyes struggling to open under clearly more than the influence of alcohol._

_And a fear that Will couldn’t remember feeling before then._

 

 

“What’s wrong, my love?” A quiet, sleepy voice behind him came to his ears the same time arms slid around the back of the chair to wrap around him. He lifted a hand up, running his fingers along the side of Hannibal’s hair.

“How are you so quiet?’ Will asked, knowing how much he probably sounded like his father, who slept like the dead. He lifted his hand to run the tips of his fingers along the side of Hannibal’s head through his soft, un-gelled hair.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hannibal sighed and came around the armchair. Wil stuck out his arms, and Hannibal raised his eyebrows for a solid few seconds before accepting the invitation and settling himself half in Will’s lap where the man could wrap his arms around him, and half in the unoccupied portion of the chair. He pressed his head to Will’s shoulder, clearly tired, but more willing to sit with Will and Abigail in their newfound, and certainly short-lived peace.

Instead, Will kissed him, square on the mouth, like he used to when he wanted to distract Hannibal. It usually worked. But tonight, his husband must have been feeling unusually perceptive, and though he didn’t reject Will’s advances, he pulled them apart earlier than Will would have liked.

“I was just thinking about old things. How strange this seems.” Will finally said, not an admittance. Hannibal held his gaze for a moment before pressing back against his shoulder, curling further against him in the armchair until Will could feel Hannibal’s pajama shirt riding up and his hand going from fabric to the skin of Hannibal’s back. It was a closeness, an intimacy he had only felt comfortable sharing with Hannibal. At the moment, when troubling thoughts about things that had happened and his own competencies as a new father, he was glad to have it.

“We are here now, Will.” A soft-long awaited cry from the crib broke their soft moment. He could feel Hannibal smile against his neck, pressing a kiss there.

“I think the newest Graham-Lecter requires assistance.” He stood fluidly, Will instantly missing the warmth, even as he stood, too. Hannibal reached for her, but Will still his hands. She blinked up at the pair of them.

“Hello,” Will reached in, picking her up gently, supporting her head gently with his fingers. Her cries turned into softer whimpers, and he carried her over to the chair. “Are you hungry?” he asked, and she snuggle close to his chest.

“I’ll go get her bottle.” Hannibal said, and Will nodded at him, humming gently as he sat down, rocking her slowly to calm her as he maneuvered her in his arms to get ready and feed her when Hannibal returned. Her eyes, still heavy with sleep, looked up at him, blinking even as she squirmed in his arms.

“It’s alright, Abby,” He said, lamenting for the second time how much he must have sounded like his father. But he also realized there could be worse things. “I’ll keep you safe.” He pressed a finger to her cheek, and she turned her eyes up to him, as if she could understand him. “You and Papa.” He added, and even though it was probably the beginning of inevitable sleep deprivation, he thought she might have smiled at the mention of Hannibal.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Sorry for the delay on this, have been writing a lot of other stuff! I hope you enjoy, this chapter as always, and please R and R, let me know what you think!

“Come now, Abigail, your father and I will return soon.” But it was too late. Abigail, sensing with their arrival at Alana, Margot, and Morgan’s that they would be leaving her at the house, had her lip stuck out in betrayal. It was true, of course, but only for an evening, and she loved spending time with little Morgan. Hannibal replicated her pout, sticking out his lower lip, which she reached for with a tiny hand. She couldn’t quite reach and instead let her fingers curl on his chin, a bubbly little smile replacing the pout. He was almost loathe to leave her.

But he and Will hadn’t hardly been out of the house in months, and they hadn’t been given the opportunity for quality alone time either. Not that he was sad, or would trade a thing about it, but it would be nice to eat a good dinner with Will, perhaps dance a bit if he could convince his nutty professor to join him on the floor.

“Here, Abigail.” Margot’s breathy voice came up behind him, and she extended her arms to take her. He handed her over, trying to look past the small flash of hurt and confusion on Abigail’s face. But Abigail fortunately liked Margot, and Hannibal might consider Alana his personal closest friend. Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian were of course his friends as well, but they were closer to Will while he and Alana could always have well conversations. “Let your Papa go have a good time.”

“Thank you, Margot.” She smiled at him gently, and he let out a short breath. It was still difficult, but his own psychotherapy after the incident with Mason had gone far better than could have been expected. And Margot had become a pleasant constant in his life.

“Have fun tonight, Hannibal.” Alana stepped into the room, holding Morgan on her hip, the 18-month old drowsy but excited that Hannibal was there.

“Will or I will be back by ten.”

“You’ll be back later than that.” Margot said, swaying Abigail back and forth. “Alana and I aren’t waiting up.” Alana had the good nature to blush at her wife’s comment, mirroring Hannibal’s own. “Now go, before we change our minds.”

Hannibal, giving one last nod of thanks, stepped out to start his drive to the restaurant where he was meeting Will, fresh from the end of his first full fortnight at the Academy.

 

 

_Hannibal could hear the phone ringing, tinny and loud in the middle of the night. He had sometimes had conversations with Tobias or Will or Alana at such a late hour, but they almost always called his phone in his room. Or texted him. It wasn’t Bedelia’s emergency line either, no patients in a panic._

_He heard his mother get to the phone first, but stood at the stairwell, looking down into the living room. “Bedelia du Maurier, how can I help you?” He watched her relax a bit, though only a bit due to the late hour, as she recognized the voice. “Mr. Graham, how can I help you?”_

_He waited for a moment, not hearing the usual friendly laughter that accompanied when Will’s father would call, sometimes to ask Hannibal what he thought Will might want for his birthday, if Bedelia could talk to him about some of the summer program resources she had access to, or if they wanted to come over for dinner. It didn’t come._

_“Where is he now?” She asked instead, her voice terse. “Keep him at home, then. There’s not much to do tonight unless you think he needs to go to the hospital.”_

_Hannibal froze, his heart pounding in his chest. In an instant, he was down the stairs, standing next to Bedelia in his pajamas and robe._

_“Then its best to keep him at home for now. Get him to sleep, drink something hot. I’ll move things around, I can see him first thing in the morning.”_

_Another long pause. A thousand thoughts raced through Hannibal’s mind. Had Will been hurt? He had seemed disoriented lately, stumbling sometimes in the hallway, overwhelmed when there were too many people. Had he fallen? Something worse. A horrible image of Will stumbling into traffic crawled into his mind, but Bedelia’s voice broke it._

_“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Graham, I’m happy to help you.” She said softly, “We can discuss it later, then.”_

_Another long pause. “Good night.” She said finally, and hung up the phone._

_“Is Will alright?” He asked immediately, feeling bad for pressuring her, but needing to know._

_She let out a long sigh. “That remains to be seen. He is safe.” She said, and with no other explanation, headed up to go back to bed, but he could see the tension drawn across her shoulders._

_It was nothing on his own, however, and more than enough times, he would let his fingers hover over the buttons on his phone, typing out Will’s number, but resisting the urge to call. He felt his throat tightening, and wasn’t sure that if he did manage to get ahold of Will, that he would be able to speak to him the words of comfort he would need._

 

 

Will was late, he knew that. He had tried, always, to be on time for everything they did and thus far had a mostly clean track record. But today, he was late. More than half an hour late, actually, and his phone had sputtered its last breath into the obnoxious jingle he had downloaded because it made Abigail giggle. By the time he had reached it, the jingle had stopped and battery was dead.

It wasn’t entirely his fault that he was late, class had run over a few minutes, and he had made the mistake of telling those with questions to come up afterwards. A parade of students later, and he was leaving the campus after when he was supposed to be at the restaurant, to say nothing for the ten minute drive there.

He ran inside, past the host who stared at him with a slight frown. She knew, then, that he was late, which could only mean that Hannibal had indeed not left him and was sitting at the table they had always occupied in the back corner where Hannibal could watch people and Will could be far enough away from them that he could eat in peace.

Indeed, his husband sat in his usual place, his phone turned with the screen upwards to him, a frown on his face as he kept glancing down at it in worry.

“Hey,” Will breathed, sliding into his own seat across from his husband. He was worried that Hannibal would be upset, that their night together might be tainted by his poor decision making, but as he sat, the tension in his husband eased considerably and the man smiled up at him, ecstatic at his arrival.

“Will.” He said back, leaning back in relaxation. “I’m glad you could make it.” He teased.

“You’ll have to blame my students, Doctor.” He said back, reaching for a menu like he wasn’t going to order the 8 ounce ribeye with broccoli and a baked potato like he had for the last ten years of their coming here. “I appreciate you were willing to wait on me.”

“I told you already, Will, I would wait on your forever.”

 

 

_Will was nervous, twitchy in his seat next to Beverly. “Did you ask him?” He knew the question was coming, but he didn’t bother answering, instead glaring at her from under his bangs of curls. “Maybe you should, then.” She rolled her eyes as she spoke, running back to pretend to listen to every loud and obnoxious girl on the other side of their library table._

_“Didn’t you two kiss at 7 th grade prom?”_

_“It’s 8 th grade now, Beverly! That means nothing!” He half-whispered back. _

_“He’s sitting over there by himself. Get off your ass and do something about it, Graham.” She hissed back, hitting him on the arm with her book._

_“Fine.” He sat for another minute, waiting for the librarian to turn around. He looked over at Hannibal, dressed in a nice blue suit, reading a book like they were all supposed to be. He had his hair pushed back, long hands on either side of the book, a sort-of smile on his face. Will swallowed. He made him nervous. He close his eyes, standing up, the girl at their table finally shutting up._

_He looked back at Hannibal, ready to march over, only to freeze. Tobias Budge was there now, having sat in the seat at Hannibal’s corner, the two of them talking. He let out a long huff, and sat back down, putting his head in his hands. He knew better than to look at Beverly for sympathy since he could practically feel her eye roll._

_When he did look back up from his book a few minutes later, though, Tobias Budge was gone. Instead, Hannibal was looking over at him, not realizing Will had looked up yet. He looked like he might have wanted to come over and talk, to sit with them even, since it seemed he had finished his book. But as soon as he saw Will looking, he looked away, standing up to return his book. Will decided it wasn’t in the cards and sank down lower in his chair, letting the girl’s droning resume and lull him into a placated existence._

 

 

Hannibal held Will tighter to him. “What time do we need to be back to get Abigail?” He heard Will mumble into his shoulder as they spun close together. The floor was practically there’s, a plus for Will, and a result of it being 8:30 on a Thursday.

“I told them 10. They said to arrive later than 10 and take our time.”

“It’s a half hour drive to the house.” Will’s voice was laced with suggestion. With Abigail, they had hardly had time to be intimate. Not that either of them would trade the exhausted nights of near-endless crying for…well, for anything really. Hannibal loved every moment of it, even the moments when a patient’s particularly boring childhood story would make it very tempting to doze off in his office when he should be taking diligent notes. “Think we could make it?”

“It’s only a ten minute drive to the Sheraton Hotel.” He murmured back, pressing a kiss to the outside of Will’s ear before he pulled back and pulled the man into one last waltz as the music picked up. He admired Will’s face, the bags under his eyes that had grown in size since they had gotten Abigail, the new, softer laugh lines that stretched from his eyes. They were both aging, that much was clear from the near-white silver hairs Hannibal found in his comb. But he had to say that Will was again gracefully, while giving Hannibal all the credit for being graceful.

He felt one of Will’s hands sneak lower down the small of his back and grinned, blushing lightly. Twelve years together, nearly ten of them married and now six months with a daughter, and the attraction hadn’t faded. Now, pulling him into a kiss, Will tasting slightly of micro-brewed beer, he was happy to say that the love hadn’t either.

 

 

“No doubt she’s Hannibal’s kid,” Were the first things that hit Will’s ears as he came through the door, Margot Verger packing up Abigail’s diaper bag. “This is the politest baby I’ve ever seen.”

Will grinned, hoping that he didn’t look too out of sorts from his and Hannibal’s brief romp at the Sharaton, but judging by the look that Alana gave him from behind Margot, holding Abigail in her baby carrier, it was very obvious what he had been doing. It might also have had something to do with the hickey he could feel forming on his neck, still red right above where his shirt collar covered.

“How does it feel to be back at work, Will?” Alana asked as he took Abigail from her. He had been back only at the start of the term, and it was nice to be teaching again. He did miss, however, his days spent with both Abigail and Hannibal and then just Abigail as Hannibal had gone back to working as well. They had synced their schedule so as not to require a babysitter with the exception of Wednesday’s, which Chiyoh was happy to do, or Bedelia, or Will’s father who was insistent that Abigail learn to say Papaw but was instead calling him a form of ‘Kitty’ after hearing Kathy call him Kit which Will knew he secretly did not mind at all.

“It’s good.” He answered, swinging the bag around one shoulder. “I miss being at home, but I’ve been told it gets easier.”

“Not true,” Said Alana with a glance to what must be Morgan’s bedroom. “But I’m glad you’re back. It’s better for you. It was better for me, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Hannibal said you were presenting at a conference this winter in Helsinki?” Will said, more comfortable when the words weren’t directed at him.

“I am!” She said. “We’re all going, it should be a nice trip.” They stood for a moment, and Will wished he had Hannibal’s ease of conversation.

“Thank you all again.” He said, and both smiled. “Let me know when we can watch Morgan for you, we’d be happy to return the favor.” He said, meaning every word.

“Will do,” said Margot, “Fair warning, he’s not nearly as quiet as this one.” Will looked down at his daughter, sleeping soundly in her carrier, and he couldn’t help but smile.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, getting a little heavier with this! A little more backstory :) Be sure to check out my Halloween one-shot if you haven't already for these folks, even though its set in the future to this!

“Did you make that?” Will looked over the top of his newspaper to see Hannibal walking into the kitchen, humming softly as he often did, looking for what Will knew had to be the tape dispenser since it was time for Hannibal to send out the mail and Will had moved it accidentally from its usual spot.

“Of course not.” Hannibal replied, paying Will little mind as he began systematically opening the drawers and cabinet doors until he found the tape where Will had left it by the cereal. Will let himself smirk at the puzzled expression on his husband’s face at the location. “I ordered it from a website Bedelia recommended.”

“Pottery Barn?” Will said innocently, earning him a glare over Abigail’s head. Hannibal detested Pottery Barn for reasons he was yet to ascertain. He hid his grin with the paper.

“No.” Hannibal said, falsely cheerful as if he hadn’t just been insulted. “Not Pottery Barn, William, it’s actually a Lithuanian Market. I thought it might be nice to introduce Abigail to the culture.”

The item in question was, as best Will could figure, a sling of sorts. Abigail did seem to be enjoying it as the folds of cloth wrapped around her kept her pulled tight to Hannibal’s chest (which Will could confirm was an excellent place for a mid-morning nap) while leaving Hannibal’s arms free to tape closed the back of the electric bill that he refused to pay online. The cloth was dark green, and if Will wasn’t mistaken, had the silvery outlines of fish inlaid on it as if they were jumping all over the fabric.

Will nodded in agreement, pushing his glasses up his nose and continuing to read. His father had gotten them a subscription to the paper when they moved into the new house, and inexpensive, but surprisingly kind gift as it was now part of Will’s daily routine when they could manage the time and Hannibal enjoyed doing the puzzles at night after they put Abigail to bed.

It took him longer than it should have to realize that Hannibal was standing still longer than he usually would as he finished his own morning routine. It was a quiet Sunday for them, nowhere to be, nowhere to go. Valentine’s Day would be soon, but not for another few days: Abigail had just turned a month old and they were celebrating all the milestones with almost breathtaking quickness. But something was off about Hannibal now.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Will rolled out his Southern drawl. He hadn’t lived in Louisiana for a long time, but it was certainly the easiest way to make Hannibal laugh, and by spending so much time with his father, he had held onto the ability to roll his r’s just right. Sure enough, Hannibal smiled, turning to face him, steadying Abigail with a hand where Will could see her diaper bulging as compared to the rest of her.

“Nothing, truly.” He said, with a soft glance at their daughter. “I have been trying to make a decision since before Abigail was born.” He took in a long breath, and Will waited, folding the paper. “I think we should go see my father, Will. Today, before the opportunity is gone.”

 

_“Now, dammit, Willy, I want to meet him!” His grandmother said, thought it was nearly impossible to decipher since she only had one half of her teeth in. “You take me out to lunch with him like you promised!”_

_“Dad’s worried about your lungs, Grandma.”_

_“I didn’t realize Kit had a medical degree.” She snapped, pushing off her blankets to try and stand by the bed. “Let’s go, he’ll be waiting!”_

_Will realized it was better (and safer), not to argue, so he helped her shuffle to the stairwell to put on her jacket, then to the car. Hannibal had offered to meet them for lunch somewhere, to treat Will’s grandmother since he had wanted to meet the woman since kindergarten. Will thought it might have been a mistake in telling her, but her mood had dramatically improved as a result, and now, driving through the late fall flurries, she was singing happily along with the radio._

_When they got there, Hannibal was waiting, having gotten them a table near the door to make it easy on her, a fact which Will’s Grandma noted as they came in, poking him in the ribs. He earned another poke when Hannibal stood so she could sit down, her murmuring something about “true gentleman”._

_“Now, you tell me Hannibal, what is it you want to do?” She said, after she decided what she wanted to order and the waiter had collected their menus. “Willy never tells me a thing.”_

_Hannibal had smiled then, a genuine smile, over at her, though Will was sad to see he was careful to hide his teeth._

_“I plan on following the same path as my mother, Bedelia. I am aiming to become a psychiatrist.” His Grandma gave Will a very unsubtle nudge, lifting her eyebrows at him._

_“That’s a lot of school. Where are you looking at going?”_

_“A few schools. Some nearby, of course. I’ve talked to the admissions counselors at Hopkins a couple of times, I’ve looked into some others in the Northeast as well as some in Virginia. Washington and Lee, and William and Mary, most of all.”_

_“Your boyfriend going anywhere?”_

_“Grandma…” Will practically groaned._

_“What?” She said, “Will told me you had a boyfriend.” It might have been Will’s mistake, but it seemed Hannibal got the slightest bit discomforted talking about it, shifting slightly in his seat._

_“Tobias has been accepted to Juilliard for the cello. He’ll be there in the fall.”_

_“Well, you know what Steve Perry always said?” She looked at the two of them expectantly, and Will could practically feel his face setting on fire. “Love and music man ain’t no way to start a family.”_

_Hannibal blushed then too, paying Will a side glance that he hoped didn’t mean their friendship was over for good. “Now, Hannibal, be a dear and tell that waiter I need more sweet tea, and if he’s got any that’s been made today instead of last week, I’d appreciate it.”_

 

Hannibal stopped for a moment, simply to breathe. They were next in line, as soon as the woman screaming about child support and the man asking his brother what the day was he would be out, and the lawyer who looked ready to go home finally decided to move out of the chairs. It was, surprisingly, exactly how movies had depicted it. A row of telephones separated by plastic barriers, lined up across from clear plastic and orange jumpsuits and hardbacked chairs.

“One on the end is free,” the guard working the desk said, “Head down there, we’ll get him for ya.”

Hannibal nodded his thanks, grabbing the large diaper bag while will collected Abigail where she had been climbing around on Will’s shoulder as best she could, fascinated by her new environment. She didn’t seem to care for it; however, and Hannibal couldn’t blame her. Though he knew that he perhaps kept their home immaculately clean, there were touches that provide it was well loved and well lived in. Soft blankets, warm colors, rick, shaggy carpets she could lay on while her fathers lay beside her. Here, surrounded by plain white brick and a slight chill, she was not too pleased with the situation.

The older desk guard brought them a second chair and the two of them sat still, Hannibal doing his best to ignore the little girl staring at him from under her mother’s sleeve. He normally might try to smile at her, but he was nervous enough as it was, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth. He knew that Will could tell, his hand not supporting Abigail reaching over to give his knee a gentle squeeze. He heard the buzzer open and watched as his father stepped into the room.

His time in prison wasn’t doing him any favors, and though he had been out on parole a couple of times, he always managed to end up back here, unable to stay away from old temptations and his record marred by the attempted murder charge he had earned for trying to stab Bedelia in what felt like almost another lifetime to Hannibal. His face was gaunt, pulled tight to his bones, though he didn’t have the same strong facial structure that Hannibal did. Their matching hair color was now slightly different as the man in front of him had his hair slowly turning a pale shade of silver, enough to match the evenly cut beard on his face.

He sat down in the chair, the sleeves on his jumpsuit rolled up, showing his arms that were larger than the last time Hannibal had seen them, he must have been using his time to rebuild some of the muscle mass he had lost during his last stint of self0-medicating. His father watched him for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not to smile at him, when he reached up and took the phone in his hands.

Hannibal took the phone as well, not hardly ready for the voice at the other end. “Hello.” He said finally, after a moment of long silence.

“Hi.” His father said back, and Hannibal looked at him harder, seeing the first sign of real emotion in his eyes in a long time. “Is this her?”

“Abigail.” He pressed a button on the receiver to make the voice come out a little louder, holding it so Will and Abigail could see it. His father whispered something under his breath, fast and hard to discern, but it was in Lithuanian.

“Is she yours…” His father scrunched up his face, “Will?”

“She’s ours.”

“I mean biologically. Blue eyes and all…” His father held his gaze, but Hannibal felt the first swelling of anger in his throat. Any person could look and see that Will’s eyes were an entirely different color than the little babies, that she shared almost no similar features with either of them.

“No.” Will responded, holding Abigail back as she reached a tiny fist down towards the receiver. “She isn’t.”

“Hi, Abby.” He heard his father say, his voice softer. Abigail stared in puzzlement at the phone, hearing her name, but not knowing quite what to do. “She’s beautiful.” He added, and Hannibal looked up to see a tear coming down his eye.

“Can I talk to just you, Hannibal? Only for a minute.” He asked, and Hannibal looked at Will. Will nodded at him.

“We’ll be over here.” He bundled Abigail back up and Hannibal watched his father watch Will carry her away.

“Thanks.” His father said, and they sat there as Hannibal fixed the phone. “I appreciate you coming to see me.”

“I don’t intend to hide you from her.” Hannibal answered.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

“If you give me a reason to, then I will.”

They were silent for a moment.

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s perfectly fine. She told me she had been to see you.”

“I asked her to come. I wanted to see you. And Abigail.”

“She told me as much.”

Another long moment of silence, the pressure to address the distance as clear as the rift between them.

“I understand that I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Hannibal.” Hannibal waited in silence. “I….”

He waited on his father to ask for his forgiveness. To ask him to forget about the last near-30 years as if he hadn’t become an entity of disruption and destruction in his life. As if he hadn’t berated him for marrying Will, or leaving for college, or never being there.

“I just wanted to say I appreciate you coming to see me. Takes a stronger man than I am.”

Hannibal blinked. And waited, but his father seemed to be done. He was stunned, the gratitude never something he had expected.

“I’ll bring her back more often.”

“I don’t expect you to do that.”

“I know.” He breathed, standing before he hung up the phone. “It isn’t about us, really.” And he walked away, into his husband and child’s waiting arms as they left it behind them for at least another day.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks! Hope you enjoy this! Sheds some light on Will's past and Bedelia's involvement as well. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

_“It’s an uncommon issue, but not unheard of. The fact that he has managed to function normally for so long without psychiatric treatment is fascinating, but other than that, Will’s case seems very typical.” Will stared at the man in front of them, one of Bedelia’s friends that had agreed to do a full evaluation of Will as a favor he owed to her. “You’ll need to start seeing a psychiatrist regularly, Will, they will be able to help your through these episodes.”_

_Will nodded, but didn’t listen beyond that as his father asked a few more questions before helping him stand and the pair of them moved outside. When they were outside, the wind almost biting in its chill, Will’s father moving to stand between his son and the worst of the wind that battered his old brown jacket, Will spoke._

_“We can’t afford that, dad.” His father looked ready to protest. “I know we can’t.”_

_“Kathy’s insurance will cover any prescriptions.” His father rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking off his new reading glasses as he folded the evaluation in his pocket. “We’ll make it work, bud. I’ll talk to Dr. du Maurier, see if she has any ideas.” He looked up and gave Will a soft smile._

_Will felt a tear come up to his eye. It wasn’t fair. Not for him, maybe someday he would be able to help himself through his empathy disorder, but for now, his father who had already done everything for him, would have to try and do even more. It wasn’t fair to him. But of course he wouldn’t complain._

_He must have looked as bad as he felt because after only a long second of standing, his father was pulling him into a hug, pressing him against his chest and resting his chin on his head. “We’ll figure it out. You focus on getting help, and I’ll worry about this.”_

_Will closed his eyes, wishing that was something he could do as easily as it felt right now, with his father giving him a hug._

 

“What do you think would be better for Papa’s birthday, Abigail, a dark red or a pink?” Will asked Abigail who was playing with the seatbelt buckle on the shopping cart. “What wine pairs better with jambalaya?” Will knew the actual answer to that question was cold beer, but the image of Hannibal drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a can was enough to make him snort out loud and earn a strange stair of a woman who was buying enough wine to fill an entire cabinet.

“What about a nice white Riesling?” He asked, thinking that the lighter taste might actually be better. He knew, even after a decade of both eating with and listening to Hannibal discuss such things, which would go better. All he really knew is that Hannibal actually liked his jambalaya and while Bedelia typically invited the pair of them out for Hannibal’s birthday, they had opted to stay home this year and enjoy dinner with Abigail. Bedelia was insistent on taking him out though, so their Saturday would be spent at the shopping center and Hannibal had elected for them to return to the Bistro that Will had eaten at with them so long ago that had now been open for nearly forty years.

He picked a bottle off the shelf, setting it in with the packs of sausages and bag of crawdads that he had been amazed to find so far north. Maybe there was a reason Hannibal shopped here instead of at Kroger like Will usually did. He felt Abigail’s fingers curl on his shirt, toying with the shiny button she had found on his jacket.

“Do you like it, Abby?” He teased her, “Papa picked it out, you’ll have to bring it up with him.”

“Papa.” She giggled. Will froze.

“What?” He said, feeling himself getting choked. “What did you say, Abigail?”

“Papa.” She repeated, laughing as the button caught the glow off a fluorescent light above him. He felt like yelling with excitement, or jumping or any manner of things that he couldn’t do while holding a four month old baby in the supermarket.

Instead he leaned in close and placed a kiss to her forehead not covered by beanie. “I don’t think he’ll care about the wine, Abby,” He whispered. “Your gift is so much better.”

“Papa.” She said for a third time.

 

_“I am going to start seeing your friend Will as a patient.” Bedelia said carefully, slicing the end off of a chicken breast._

_“Is everything alright?”_

_“He will be fine.” She said, chewing thoughtfully, quieter than she usually was. “His father called me earlier asking if I knew anyone who would do cases for cash instead of through insurance. I asked him for details, and his wife’s insurance only covers psychiatric prescriptions, not the actual visits.”_

_“That’s absurd.”_

_“I told him I might, but that a single session could cost as much as six-hundred-dollars.” She took a bite of the rice pilaf, perfectly balanced on his fork. “He told me he would make it work.” The way Bedelia said it made Hannibal swallow. He had no doubt that was the truth. If Will needed something, his father would make it happen, no matter what it took. It hurt him to think about it too much, to know that there was a man who could give so much when he had so little, and to think of his own father who he sometimes found at their breakfast table on Saturdays, flaunting fully the fact that he had spent the night with Bedelia. It hurt._

_But he couldn’t think about himself. He had never been more scared than he had been when he had seen Will after his episode. His eyes were wild, his hair unwashed and in more disarray than his curls usually allowed for. He looked like he might not have slept in days, like the effort into putting on his clothes correctly had been too much and he had instead thrown them on in whatever fashion they would stay. But almost the worse of it had been the relief when he saw Hannibal, the calm that had come over him as Hannibal pulled him into an embrace right there in the foyer where he could feel the tears soaking into his shirt while Will’s father and Bedelia talked._

_“Something’s wrong with me.” He had said, and Hannibal hadn’t known what to say back, so instead, he had gotten him a glass of water with mint and they had sat on the porch in the cold until their parents were done. Will had said something about English class, about a paper, but Hannibal couldn’t bear to think about school at the moment, about something that seemed so normal when everything else was at stake, and eventually, Will had realized the strangeness in discussing freshman English too and had gone silent. Hannibal had reached over hold onto his arm as if he were trying to anchor them both._

_“You’re going to see him, then?”_

_“For free, yes.”_

_He watched her for a long moment. He was considering everything he knew about Bedelia. About his mother. Some from his own experience, some from her interactions with others. She wasn’t a bad person, but there was a part of her that seemed to separate all of this from everything else, that took her job out of the realm of her personal life and that made it easier for her to live._

_“Please don’t think I’m disagreeing. Can I ask why?”_

_“I became a doctor to help people, Hannibal.” She said, “That’s the cliché for it now, anyway.” She set down her fork and leveled her eyes at him. “What could I say about myself if I don’t help them now?” She let out a long breath, running her fingers over her face. “I have the time, we live more than comfortably, I can afford to help them, so I will.” She stood for a moment, seeming to no longer want the food in front of her._

_After a second she turned and walked to Hannibal, pulling him into a strange hug, his head pulled against her stomach. “How can I not help them, Hannibal?” She said, running a hand through his hair, her voice thick with emotion, “when they helped me get everything back”?”_

_For a brief moment, he thought she meant his father, on the other end of her phone somewhere. It took him a longer moment for the realization to come that she, in fact, had been referring to him, and not only him, but the him that Will Graham had let him be._

 

“Would you like to butter the baguettes, Abigail?” Will said, placing the hard bread on her dining chair where she immediately embedded her fingers in the soft wax paper wrappings. “You are turning into an excellent sous chef.”

And she was, laughing along as Will played Frankie Vallie and the Four Seasons over the kitchen stereo. He and Hannibal had argued over which Four Seasons was best, and though he could admit that Vivaldi had his perks, nothing would ever beat Frankie Valli.

The Frogmore Stew was coming to a rolling boil, smelling thickly of Old Bay Seasoning and home, and Will was taking the time to spin Abigail in her chair each time Frankie hit the high falsetto and she was laughing madly by the time he actually got around to buttering the baguette and placing some of the thick slices in the oven. He preferred them untoasted, but Hannibal looked at him like he was sort of scoundrel when he ate them, so he always made sure the man had two perfectly toasted circles.

He heard the door opening, and both he and Abigail turned towards it, screeching along with the radio. He waited, hoping the song wouldn’t end before Hannibal came in, and his wish was granted as his husband, slightly flustered from the mid-April cold, but devoid of coat and keys came into the kitchen. Will grabbed his hand, pulling him into the middle of the room, holding him close and spinning him quickly around to the last few beats of the song.

Hannibal’s passive face quickly turned into a smile, and he leaned down slightly to kiss Will on their last twirl. Will heard a small noise behind him, and turned away from Hannibal to see Abigail doing what seemed to be clapping, slapping her tiny, rounded palms together while she giggled. “Do you find us entertaining, Abigial? Daddy and I?” Hannibal said to her

“Dada.” She replied happily, giggling then frowning as the music turned off. Will froze for a second time.

“What was that, darling?” Hannibal said, and went over to her, sweeping her up in his arms. “What did you say?” He looked over at Will, grinning madly to the point that Will almost felt bad telling him it wasn’t her actual first word.

“Dada.” She said, looking at Will, sticking her hand in her mouth.

“Tell Papa what you said earlier, Abby.” Abigail looked at him, blinking. Hannibal raised his eyebrow. “Tell Papa.”

She pulled her fist out of her mouth, Will suspecting it was just to get him to stop bothering her. She blinked at him. “Tell Papa, Abby.”

“Papa,” She said, and took her wet hand to pat it against Hannibal’s chest. “Papa.” She said again, almost in a sing-song voice.

Will looked up at Hannibal, watching soft tears coming to his eyes.

“Happy birthday,” Will said, and Hannibal smiled softly.


	12. Chapter 12

Will looked over at Hannibal, a question he was going to ask on the edge of his lips as he realized the man was asleep. The book he had been reading, East of Eden, was laying open on his chest, his reading glasses still on his face, but his body was sliding more and down into the bed where he could sleep. Will smiled, it was rare that he woke before Hannibal, and he wasn’t certain that getting to see his husband sleeping while he was awake at nearly four a.m. in some sort of insomnia induced state should count towards anything romantic.

“Hannibal?” He said softly, but the man didn’t react so he hooked two fingers under his book and dog-eared the page, moving it to his own nightstand. Using those same hands, he pulled Hannibal’s square frames from his face and folded them, putting them away in kind. He spared a glance to make sure the baby monitor was on, flicking of their lamp and slid down into the blankets himself.

It was a few minutes, a seeming lifetime of staring into the dark, that he felt Hannibal stir next to him. At first, he thought it was just him finally adjusting into a more comfortable position. But then Hannibal’s body rolled up against his, spooning against him. “Will. Are you awake?”

“Am I ever actually asleep?” He could practically hear Hannibal’s frown at that, but since it was true, he refused to feel bad about saying it.

“Well,” He said after a moment, “Since you are awake…I was wondering if perhaps…”

Will rolled over to face him, Hannibal’s maroon eyes glinting slightly in the light through the window, Will’s own eyes having adjusted well to the lack of light so he could see his face in the dark. “I was wondering the same thing earlier, but my husband fell asleep on me, you see?” He grinned, “Our first quiet night at home and he feel asleep.”

“I’m sure he is deeply sorry.” Hannibal did, to his credit, sound genuinely remorseful, but he smiled as Will rolled again, hooking a leg over his waist to press him into the bed.

 

_“Hello, Will.” Will pushed his way into the apartment, smelling what he was certain was a fresh pressed pot of coffee. Hannibal stood, his back to him, in the four-person kitchenette that they all shared, boiling a pot of water. Dressed for the late fall weather, he was in a burnt orange sweater with twill elbow pads, his hair slightly longer than he usually would keep it. Will smirked, looking at him, fully understanding why it was that a few of the first years always thought he was a young professor. “If you have a moment, I have a question.”_

_He turned to look at Will, maroon eyes glinting slightly. Ever since they had moved in here, out of the traditional dorms to a place they could both have a bit more space: Will for his own sanity, Hannibal for his various hobbies and eccentricities, it had actually become easier to talk. Even when their other two roommates, women who Hannibal knew from the psychology department, were far easier to share space with than thirty people they had lived on campus with for two years. And they could have talks like this, which Will thought were always particularly domestic._

_“Course.” He said, and propped his backpack up against the table, taking a seat there. He had just gotten off work at the garage where he pulled sixteen hours a week. It, along with his scholarship, paid his expenses and let him save for graduate school so that he might actually be able to afford somewhere decent and pay it off without scholarship help. “What’s going on?”_

_“I was simply wondering if you were going to the fall festival this evening.” Hannibal turned, pouring a cup of water into the filter system he had set up on the counter, filtering it through the beans until he did have a steaming mug of coffee. He gestured to a second mug that Beverly has sent him for Christmas last year that said “Big Daddy”. He waved a hand._

_“Um.” He said, rolling it over in his head. Fall Fest was the towns big free social event every fall for both campus and the community. There were rides and games for children as well as older people. Old fashioned carnival booths, cotton candy, and hand-crafted beers. Booths to buy things, performers, and crafts. It was a fun event, and tonight was college night which meant $1 pint beers and 10 free games with your student ID. He had gone the last two years, but both of them with company. Once with a girl from his sociology class who had decided he wasn’t quite interesting enough for her after he wouldn’t have sex on the Ferris wheel, and again with a boy in his scholarship program who had decided much the same thing. “I hadn’t planned on it.”_

_“Oh.” Hannibal said, and Will could see him mulling over things._

_“No one asked me to,” Will admitted. Though he wasn’t particularly ashamed, it wasn’t as if he had been looking for anyone to with._

_“Well,” Hannibal said, pausing for a long time, taking a drag of coffee. “I was thinking that perhaps you might like to accompany me.”_

_“Oh.” Will said, and he could feel his skin reddening. He was having flashbacks of seventh grade through the end of high school (and most of college if he wasn’t kidding himself), when he had known he had a crush on Hannibal but hadn’t said anything, always too afraid of what might be ruined between them by admitting such things. “I…I would like that.”_

_Hannibal beamed, flashing his teeth over the rim of his cup._

_“Excellent.” He said, speaking faster than normal. “How about 7:30? Would you like to eat here or there?”_

_Will froze, almost not believing that this was happening. “Ummm, there, I guess?” Then he blushed. “Not that here would be bad!” He stuttered. “it’s just…It could be fun.”_

_“Of course,” Hannibal said, and Will could see him blushing as well. “7:30, then?”_

_“Yeah. Great.” Will said, and stood too quickly, banging his knee on the table leg. “I’m going to go shower and get ready then. And he shuffled to his room, going too quickly and hitting his knee of the sideboard, choking down his gasp of pain to save face._

 

 

“Hey!” He heard Abigail yell from her playpen as he walked by. Her vocabulary had expanded beyond “Papa” and “Daddy” and “kitty” (that truthfully sounded more like Kiwi), and now included the exclamation she would use to get attention. He looked over at her.

“Hey!” She said again, holding a set of plastic rings in her hand. As soon as he was looking, she lifted her arms up to him, reading his book on the couch, watching her play in the pen at his feet.

“I’m not getting you out of your pen right now, Abigail.” He said, matter-of-factly. “You need to play for a while.”

She had spent the better part of her day strapped to his chest, wrapped in her snug blankets, part of it asleep and part of it babbling nonsense as he put dinner in the oven to bake for when Will would be back. It was Tuesday, one of two days where he would stay home and care for her, seeing patients in the home office on Thursdays. But Tuesday’s were there’s alone, and he loved the soft moments they had had together, even if at times he had felt overwhelmed.

He sometimes wondered what she and Will did on Mondays when Will was home with her all throughout the day. With a smirk, he noted that it certainly wasn’t cleaning since he had spent nearly a half hour that morning dusting all the furniture before Abigail had woken for her first diaper change. Part of him thought it most likely was spent between mutual naps and Will reading to her since he had developed a recent proclivity for children’s literature as he was clearly preparing for her to be literate and be able to exchange words with him. He had heard him reading out loud to her before, books seemingly far advanced for a tiny baby, and though he doubted she could understand much of what he was saying, she always stared at him with rapt attention as he spoke softly to her.

He glanced back over to see her staring hard at him, her lower lip stuck out slightly. “Papa.” She said, and he could swear it was in a little beg. His heart ached for a moment and he was compelled to go and grab her and spin her around. But he held tight to his convictions.

“Enjoy some time to yourself, Abigail. I’m right here.” He repeated in earnest.

She smacked her lips at him, making a small noise of disapproval. Certainly the same one that Will did when he was making the fishing flies and he would end up with loose wires and bits and baubles instead of the tight curls that he wanted. He couldn’t help but laugh but hid it from her in his book, waiting until it seemed she had begun to amuse herself again with the toys before he lowered the book to where he could see her again.

Only a while later, the pot roast in the oven starting to smell like the rick overlay of spices he had marinated it in, and the potatoes certainly reaching their pinnacle of perfection, the door opened and Will came in. Hannibal could tell immediately, by the harsh way he removed his shoes, that something was wrong. When he appeared in the living room from the front parlor, he was mildly disheveled. “I’ll be upstairs.” He said quietly, stepping around the couch without another word and going up to their bedroom.

Hannibal was startled, and could do nothing but blink at the man as he went by. Abigail looked up, too, in confusion. This time, Hannibal did go and pick her up, cradling her in his arms as she let out a soft whimper of having been largely ignored by her daddy.

 

_Hannibal pulled the plaid scarf down the lapels of his jacket, making it easily flattened down. The air had picked up a small chill, and the last thing he wanted to do was to ruin the night or make it end early by being cold. He sat in one of the kitchen chairs, having informed Meredith of where he and Will would be going after she had come in. He suspected, particularly after the sly smirk he had received, that she was the one responsible for the three pack of condoms he had found on his bed shortly after. But now he was waiting for Will, who he could hear scrambling in his bedroom to get ready. He still had four minutes, and Hannibal had faith he would make it on time._

_He wasn’t sure what exactly had compelled him to finally ask Will on a date. Perhaps it was the fact that he had most likely been in love with Will Graham since the first day of kindergarten, that his curly-headed roommate was responsible for the end of every one of his relationships wither because of the jealousness of his partner as it had been with Tobias or his own inability to develop his feelings beyond the preliminary stages for them, or perhaps it was how Will had looked that morning, hair still slightly damp but laughing as he told Hannibal about the various eccentricities of his Criminal Psychology professor. Hannibal was proud to say that he had only ever seen Will relaxed enough to laugh like that around himself and Beverly Katz, who was currently at the University of Maryland School of Medical Forensics. After everything that had happened in their lives, his and Will’s relationship had not faltered._

_He had given up hope, long ago, that Will harbored those same feelings for him. After he had never mentioned their kiss at the 7 th grade dance after it happened, and had never intervened or voiced objection when he and Tobias began talking or when Hannibal and Randall Tier had dated for a short time early in the year until it became clear that Randall only wanted the occasional hook-up while Hannibal had never considered himself one for meaningless sex, he had given up on the thought that Will might reciprocate anything more than friendship. He had nearly resigned himself to the idea of living alone, existing at the peripheral boundary between platonic friendship and romance with the man who had full hold over his heart. He had expected Will to say no. _

_But now, Will stepped out of his bedroom, curls combed as best they could be, slightly damp again, framing Will’s new glasses after the old one’s had been lost to an Mack Truck engine he had bene attempting to fix. “Hey, sorry,” He said. “Are you ready?”_

_“You’re right on time.” Hannibal replied. “No need to apologize.” He stood up out of his chair, taking in the sight of Will Graham who had his black Tracker coat pulled around his shoulders over a dark orange button up with a pumpkin pinned to his pocket._

_“I thought I would be festive.” He said nervously as he tracked Hannibal’s gaze. He grinned. It was rather adorable, the perfect touch for the event._

_“I thought we would walk, in case we wanted to try the beers.” Hannibal said, lifting his words like a question. “I can drive if you would rather I did that?”_  
  


_“No.” Will said, shaking his head. “Walking is great. It’ll be nice to be out where it’s cold.”_

_“Perfect.” Hannibal said, and took a deep breath, watching Will blush slightly and glance away. “Shall we go?”_

_“Have fun!” Meredith yelled from her room and Hannibal smiled gently as he closed and locked their door, intending to do just that._

 

Dinner was a silent affair. If Hannibal could comment on his own creation, the roast was delicious, along with the sides. Will, for his part, had gotten a partial serving for himself, electing to eat a few bites, neglecting his own food in favor of feeding smushed apricots to Abigail who gurgled happily at his attentions. But he didn’t smile, didn’t make casual conversation about the day as he usually might have. Hannibal tried to speak to him, ask questions, but they were to no avail, receiving only short, curt answers in reply to his inquiries.

When dinner was over, Will took Abigail upstairs to take her bath and get her ready for bed while Hannibal did dishes. He took his time, knowing that his husband wanted to be alone, and was able to scrub even the toughest bits of roast off of the pan whereas normally he would allow the pan to soak and return later. He sat in the living room for a long while after pretending to read as he heard Will put Abigail down and shut the door to their bedroom. He tried to focus, truly, but Will’s silence had pervaded his mind.

He went upstairs, pushing the door open, to their dark bedroom. Will was obviously curled up on his side of the bed and had at least taken the initiative to dress in his pajamas before getting into bed. Hannibal shut the door, leaning back against it. “Will,” He said softly and the covered lump moved slightly. “If I have upset you in any way, I apologize---”

“It isn’t you.” Will sounded almost confused, sitting up in bed to look at him, reaching for his glasses in the dark. “Hannibal, it’s not you.”

“I am still concerned.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Will said, more urgently, sounding almost tired.

“Will, I can help you…” Hannibal insisted. “Please, allow me to---”

“You can help me.” Will agreed, and a made a gesture for Hannibal to come over to his side of the bed. He made a move to sit, but Will hooked his figners into his belt loops instead, pulling him down onto the bed, taking him by surprise. “I need to not think.”

Hannibal, despite his immediate response that this was more than slightly unhealthy, he could feel his arousal building. Will undid his belt buckle quickly, tugging on his trousers.

“Will,” Hannibal said, “Please, talk to me.” Hannibal touched his face and Will stilled.

“Don’t be a psychiatrist right now, Hannibal.” Will said, his voice tight with what Hannibal knew was the brink of pain. “Be my husband.”

And his hands went up Hannibal’s chest, undoing all of the buttons on his shirt down to where his shorts were open. But his hands were rougher than usual. Will’s typical gentleness, with the exception of certain times, had evaporated. “Will.” He said again, barely audible.

“Do you want me to stop?” Will asked, leaning back away from him, ready to stop. Of course he would, if Hannibal asked him to. That had never been an issue. But Will had never behaved like this before, either. Only the night before he had been gentle and carefree and loving like always.

“Yes.” Hannibal said, though it hurt him. Will moved off of him instantly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing as Hannibal sat up and readjsuted his pants and shirt. “I’m going to get a drink…I’m sorry.” It sounded like he might be crying. But before Hannibal could compose himself either, he disappeared out the door, letting it hang open behind him.

 

_“Have you ever had cotton candy?” Will asked, taking the bag as it was offered by a disinterested teenager. It was bright blue, certainly not something Hannibal would ever eat of his own accord, Will was certain._

_“No.” Hannibal replied, taking another zip of the pumpkin beer he had enjoyed most of all the free samples they had been given. Will was slightly surprised, other than the party he chose not to remember at the end of high school, he had never seen Hannibal drink beer. But he had genuinely enjoyed himself, enjoying the antics of the brewers as the pair of them moved from table to table, sampling some autumn fruit flavors that Will’s unsophisticated palette enjoyed and that Hannibal’s refined one could admire the craft of. But the man hadn’t like any as well as the pumpkin which he said was mellow and reminded him of the cider that Bedelia made every Halloween during her soiree that she had been throwing since Hannibal was sixteen. “What is it?”_

_“Sugar, mostly.” Will said, and feeling brave after the beer, reached in and pulled a piece from the bag. “Here, open up.”_

_Hannibal blushed, but obeyed, and Will placed the tiny tuft on his tongue where he could see the man’s face tightening as it dissolved on his tongue. He tried to smile, but looked like he was in genuine pain. Will laughed so hard he had to cover his own mouth. “You hate it.”_

_“I’ll admit, it is not to my usual taste.” Hannibal said, and took a long drink of beer to wash away the flavor._

_“How unsophisticated.” Will replied, popping his won bite into his mouth, earning a soft laugh from Hannibal. Will wondered if Hannibal realized how close they were standing, where the warmth radiating off of him through his jacket  in contrast to the chill. Maybe he did, and either way, he didn’t move away as they ventured over to the caramel apple stand where Hannibal found something far more to his liking and they went to get seats at the show._

_They sat together on the wooden benches, able to get seats in the fourth row since they were still early, and ate happily, talking of inconsequential things. “Picture?” A woman came up beside them, holding a Polaroid in her hands, one with the printer there on the bottom of the camera. “It’s only five dollars, and you’re such a good-looking couple.”_

_“I---” Will said, worried that this woman would push them too far too fast and ruin their chance to actually be together._

_“Of course.” Hannibal said before he had the chance to finish, and fished out the five dollars. Will sat, frozen in almost terror as the woman took the money and got in front of them. A sudden feeling of boldness came over him and he wrapped an arm around Hannibal, curling his fingers on his opposite waist as Hannibal’s arms came beside him. He grinned, delirious maybe, with his own bravery. The woman snapped the picture and handed it to Hannibal, moving to a couple who looked fresh out of the local high school._

_Hannibal moved his arm back slowly, letting it linger on Will’s upper arm for a moment as he held the snapshot in his other hand, caramel apple balanced in a plate on his lap. “Well, she was correct.”_

_“What?” Will said, looking at the picture._

_“We are a good-looking couple.” He said, Will blushed hard, accentuated by the feeling of Hannibal sliding his hand down Will’s jacket sleeve until he could lace their fingers together, pressing them palm to palm._

_Will smiled._

 

When Hannibal made it downstairs, Will was sitting on the couch, with two untouched fingers of whiskey in a glass on one of their coasters. Hannibal sat on the loveseat, cattycorned to him by the end table. Will had his face in his hands, and Hannibal watched him for a moment.

“I’m sorry.” Will said, and lowered his hands. He was crying.

“what happened, Will?” He felt like crying himself, looking at his husband’s face.

“I was mean to you.”

“I forgive you, Will.” He said slowly. He wasn’t upset, he was worried. “It wasn’t a large transgression. You stopped when I asked you too.”

“Still.” Will said, and let out a long breath. “It shouldn’t have happened, and I’m sorry. It’s just that it feels like everyone I’ve seen has asked me about my day. About what happened. I just want it to be over and I know it won’t be.”

“Tell me, Will.” He reached a hand out and brushed their fingertips together.

“I had an episode at work.” He said finally, looking up at the ceiling. “I forgot to take my pills this morning and when I started lecturing about some of the kills, I had an episode in class.” He said. “I couldn’t teach, I could barely breathe. They all surrounded me and were touching me.”

He stopped for a moment and shuddered, shifting in his seat. “It was horrible. And embarrassing. And I thought I was past this.” He nearly shouted. “Sorry.” He said again.

“It’s alright, Will.” Hannibal said. “I’m sorry.” Will looked over at him, sorrow and anger at himself in his eyes.

“I want to be stable for you and Abby.” He said again.

“We all need assistance sometimes.” Hannibal responded. “Let me be yours.” He gave Will’s arm a gentle tug, urging him to join him on the loveseat. Will hesitated a moment and Hannibal patted his legs playfully. “I don’t bite, I promise.”

Will slid into his lap, staying chaste, but Hannibal turned his body to where wills legs were around his waist. “I have to take advantage while we are still young enough for such shenanigans.” He said, and they rose from the couch, Hannibal’s hands lifting Will against him, carrying him up towards their bedroom.

“Does this mean we’re done talking about this?” Will sounded almost hopeful. Exactly like a patient who didn’t want to dig into something particularly painful.

“Not by a long shot.” Hannibal said, smiling against Will’s face. “That doesn’t mean we can’t take a small break.”

 

 

_Will kept his and Hannibal’s hands intertwined as they walked home down the well-lit street, the festival far behind them. Sundy Best, a band he had never heard before but would definitely be adding to his list of music as well as probably sending the name to his father, had finished and he and Hannibal had ended the night with a ride on the Ferris Wheel and a walk through the craft section where Hannibal had gotten some tchotchkes for their apartment table and some handcrafted pottery items for Bedelia’s end tables for Thanksgiving._

_It was the most fun that Will had had in a long time, the first time he had felt compelled to stay out at a social event in a long time. The slightly warming effects from the beer had worn off and he was glad to hold Hannibal closer as they walked, fingers intertwined.   “Did you have fun?” He asked Hannibal as they arrived at their apartment complex._

_“Immensely.” He said. “thank you for accompanying me, Will.”_

_“Thank you for the invitation.” Will answered.  Hannibal paused outside their door, turning to face Will._

_“I take it then, that if I asked if you would like to accompany me for dinner out on Sunday, you wouldn’t decline?” Hannibal asked, smiling slightly as if an excited child. Will felt a flutter in his stomach, hardly believing this was happening at all._

_“If you can do Monday instead, I’d love to go.”_

_“Monday it is.” Hannibal smiled, opened his mouth to say something else then lost his nerve. “Well, then,” He finally said. “Shall we?” He gestured to the door, fishing in his pockets for his keys._

_“Wait,” Said Will, and he could feel himself biting his lip, barely able to hold Hannibal’s gaze. “There’s something I want to do first.” And he raised his hands, still warm from Hannibal’s, and traced his thumb along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble._

_Hannibal leaned forward and their lips met in a perfect first kiss: warm, slight, and chaste but with the certain promise of more. That night, it was the last thing on Will Graham’s mind as he wondered what it might be like to share more than a kiss as he drifted off to sleep._

 

 

 

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks! I hope you all have had/are having good holidays if you celebrate! Thanks for taking the time to stop by and check out this chapter! I also posted a little Christmas one-shot if that is something you might want to read :) 
> 
> As for this one, it is only the start of the Matthew Brown saga, so don't worry if it seems like little is resolved. We're getting there ;) As always, I hope you enjoy. Please R and R, let me know what you think!

_“So, how was it? Did you get laid?”_

_“Bev!” Will said, and clamped his hand over the speaker, knowing he was being ridiculous and that in reality there was no way Hannibal could hear her, especially since he was in the shower. “No,” He finally said, “It wasn’t about that. We went to the festival, had a great time.”_

_“What’s the follow up plan?” She asked and it sounded suspiciously like she was eating some kind of long length noodles on the other end of the phone. “Don’t touch that!” She yelled suddenly and Will waited for a moment. “Sorry, Brian came up for the weekend and he’s nearly killed Mary-Anne’s succulents.”_

_“How is Brian?”_

_“The same as he always was.” She said and he heard her swallow. “A weird bastard, but what can I say? I attract them like flies?”_

_“You ever get rid of Randall?”_

_“Yep, he found a woman far more interested in dead animals than I am and they are doing their mating dance on the other side of campus,” She let out a dramatic sigh. “Stop dodging the question, Will, I’d hate to have to kick your ass.”_

_Will laughed in spite of himself, letting out a snort at the thought of Beverly driving to beat him up. Not that she wouldn’t do it, it would still be funny, though. “I don’t know, I don’t want to push things too fast.”_

_“Too fast?” She stopped and Will heard loud chewing, “You’ve been in love with him since the second grade, maybe sooner. That’s just when I could spot it. I think you’ve succeeded in playing long ball here, Will, maybe its time for a little roll in the sack…”_

_“We’re getting dinner on Monday, Beverly, Jesus.” Will said finally, cutting her off effectively. “I have work this weekend, so we’re going out again on Monday.”_

_“And in the meantime? Don’t you two live next to each other?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Not hard to push your tiny ass bed down the hall…”_

_“Bev!”_

_“I’m just saying!”_

_“Thank you, Beverly. If Hannibal and I start going steady and get guest spots on the Brady Bunch, we’ll push our beds together…”_

_“I’ve never seen a man more resistant to sex,” Will heard a crash through the phone followed by a exasperated groan from Beverly, “Except for maybe Brian. I got to go, love you always.” And she was gone._

_Will set the phone down, waiting and not realizing why until he heard the water stop running the shower, soothed by the sound. It was then he realized he was smiling, though whether it was at Beverly’s antics or at Hannibal’s presence, that remained to be seen._

 

Hannibal walked with Abigail pulled tight to his chest, her empty carrier in his arm. He could have held her in there easily, but enjoyed her riding in the various wrappings more than he cared to say. She cooed happily as they walked and he spoke softly the names of birds that flew past them, the species of trees that the City had planted in an effort to make downtown more walkable. Hannibal appreciated the effort, and he knew that both he and Bedelia walking through the streets. It made Will more nervous than his husband cared to admit, so Hannibal tried to take advantage when he had breaks or when he and Abigail had their days together to take a stroll.

Which is part of the reason he was so surprised to see Will inside a small restaurant, one of the new, more modern places in downtown. Though Hannibal had not been himself, he and Alana had plans to eat their next week after she returned from a conference on Childhood Developmental Delays and Hannibal had heard good things. He stopped, watching Will, who he was certain was certainly Will, sitting in a booth across from a man that Hannibal had never seen before with short, dark hair, slightly younger than they were. Will was laughing, his smile perfect.

Hannibal smiled, having not expected to see Will, and briefly thought about gesturing to him through the window. But instead, his curiosity got the better of him and he stood still, watching their interactions. This man, whoever he was, had Will in hear constant laughter until his glasses were askew and he pushed them up his face in a gesture familiar to Hannibal. He cocked his head, watching Will say something back and the man laugh in turn before he reached in a tore a piece of breads, offering half of it to his husband.

His mind started to run a bit wild. Will was most likely with a work colleague or friend, a manse company he clearly enjoyed. It was his usual lunch time, there was certainly no ill intent. And yet, as Hannibal looked at this man, he couldn’t help the small burn of jealousy in his stomach at the way he was clearly looking at Will.

They had been tired lately, had both been dealing with a lot. His heart sank a little as his thoughts came faster and faster. Could he really blame Will for wanting a more fun companion? He thought of his graying hairs. A younger comapanion, even?

“Let’s go home.” He whispered to Abigail, and headed back towards the county garage to retrieve the car, no longer having an appetite for the lunch out he had planned for them.

 

_Hannibal looked down the couch, watching Will as his eyes darted along the page of his criminology textbook, getting ahead on reading. It wasn’t uncommon that Will spent weekend evenings in the apartment or at work, though he did on occasion go out for a drink with friends or to the movies to see a picture, and tonight was no exception. The early fall evening had come down on them, and there was a slight chill rattling against their window, the perfect setting for an evening in._

_Hannibal set his own book down because as much as he loved Sylvia Plath and her written words, he burned with the urge to talk to Will. He was looking forward to their dinner on Monday far more than he would care to admit and had spent a good deal of the day, more time than he had to spend on it, selecting the perfect ensemble that would be both stylish and not intimidate Will. A thin red sweater with a black collared undershirt and tie, dark grey pants and his nicest shoes. He was embarrassed to think, his cheeks turning the slightest tinge of pink, that he had all of those things already on a hangar in the closet already._

_He watched Will for a few minutes, letting the Halloween movie on the TV roll on behind him, the protagonists on some grand, pumpkin themed adventure. Will continued to read, sometimes reaching for a sip of his beer that was open on the nightstand. Hannibal wasn’t sure what his end goal was: it was far too early in their romantic relationship to consider that they might go to bed together, though the thought that he had found more and more lingering in his mind as of late now made him shift in his seat, his face flushing even darker._

_At his movement, Will looked up to meet eyes with him, bottle in his hand, pressed against his lips. “Are you alright, Hannibal?”_

_“Quite.” He responded automatically and folded his hands together. “I’m enjoying this evening in, actually.” He typically tried to go to one of the shows on display at the campus arts center, though now he was glad to have missed the Danse Macabre themed variety show as it had never really piqued his interest._

_“Sorry I’m not more fun,” Will said, and Hannibal looked over at him as he swallowed down the rest of his beer. “I won’t have time to do too much where we’re going out for dinner on Monday.” He said almost shyly and Hannibal grinned. He stood, and walked over to Will, taking the bottle in his hand._

_“Would you like another drink?” He asked and Will nodded. Hannibal tossed the bottle in the recycling and went to the fridge. When he came back, Will’s book was on the side table, dog eared as opposed to book marked, and he was clearly contemplating something. Hannibal walked over to him, setting it and the bottle opener on the stand._

_“Here you are, we’ll need to get more at the store.” And he moved to step away, but Will’s hand caught on his wrist._

_“I thought of something fun we could do.” He said slowly, his voice wavering for a second as he let go of Hannibal’s wrist. “At least for a little while. If you were interested, of course.” His face glowed red as a tomato, but Hannibal had never seen anything more endearing than that. He swallowed for a moment, wondering how exactly to respond._

_Then, the decision practically made for him, he slid onto the couch, his legs straddling Will’s waist into the couch. “I think that sounds perfect.” He said and kissed him, letting his hands roam over Will’s clothes as he felt one arm wrap around his waist and the other thread through his hair._

 

Will lifted her spoon closer to Abigail’s mouth, happy when she chewed it with no problem. “I’ll do dishes tonight,” He said, glancing at Hannibal. “Unless you just want to.” Hannibal gave a small smile and shook his hand, standing and taking his and Will’s plates to the sink while Wills started to clean Abigail from the remnants of her dinner.

He went to the sink, humming softly to himself as he rolled up his sleeves and started to work through the dishes, washing the grime and grease off effectively. He heard Hannibal return from putting Abigail in her playpen, moving behind him, returning the pitcher of fruit water to the fridge, rebagging the basket of breads, putting away the dried dishes. Then, as he was lifted the plug from the sink drain and finishing washing when a pair of arms came around him, hands undoing his belt buckle.

“Hey,” He breathed, “ Tilting his neck to the right as Hannibal’s lips moved there, sucking dark bruises alogn the skin. “Miss me today?”

“Everyday,” Was the reply as hands pushed his pants down off his hips and to the floor, feeling Hannibal pressed against him. He laughed a little, letting himself enjoy the feelings.

“You want to go upstairs?” He asked.

“No.” Was the answer as a hand slipped by his waistband. “Here is good.”

A few minutes later and Will had to agree, wondering what the source of this unexpected intimacy was, but not willing to question it much when he couldn’t quite think straight.

 

_“I really should finish reading this chapter.” Will said from beneath him on the couch, and Hannibal felt almost childish as he simply nuzzled his nose against Will’s jaw. “Not that I ever want you to leave.”_

_Hannibal wasn’t sure how long they had kissed and touched and everything else, but it was long enough that the nondescript protagonists had changed and were now wondering through a graveyard with no adult supervision, still adorned with pumpkins._

_“I don’t want to either.” Hannibal said, “But perhaps we should be responsible.” He sat up carefully, readjusting his shirt, rebuttoning one of the top buttons that had been undone. Will sat up as well, in far more disarray, but easily resolved as well._

_They both sat up for a minute, still flushed, and Will reached for his glasses. “I think I may need a new beer.” He said after a moment and Hannibal smiled as he watched him go, staring with only a little bit of red staining his cheeks._


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, bit a lot happens! Hope you all enjoy, as always, please R and R, let me know what you think!

__

Will stood by his desk, closing the clasps on his shoulder bag as hi class filtered out. He had half an hour until his physics lab and he was planning on using that to call his father to make sure he could still watch Abigail on Saturday afternoon so he and Hannibal could got to the Antiques Roadshow and Hannibal could get the mahogany sideboard he had been wanting for the front room. Not that Will was certain why it had to be mahogany, he had thought most of the other woods in the room were red cherry and hardwoods, but Hannibal was insistent and after weeks of searching, he had finally found one.

“Dr. Graham?” He looked up, recognizing the voice.

“Mr. Brown.” He said and smiled. Matthew Brown was standing in the doorway, leaning against it in his usual lab coat. He was working in the lab later today, and in the past couple of weeks that he had been hired, he had been exceptionally friendly and rather helpful with Will.

“Not Matthew?”

Will let out a slight laugh. “I was merely reciprocating.” He said. “Did you need something, Matthew?”

“No.” He walked in, hands in his pockets. “Just thought I would stop by.” Will nodded, pushing his glasses back up his face and taking his phone out of his bag.

“Great,” He said back. “I’m sorry I can’t talk longer, Matthew, I have a call I need to make before the lab…”

“Sure!” Matthew said, turning his body, hands in his pockets, laughing a little at Will wagered must have been a private joke. “I just wanted to see if you had any interest in getting lunch again sometime.”

Will squinted a bit. He had gone with Matthew to lunch the day before, the man having asked if he could help him go through some of the new tactical layouts for the lab before the class today. It had been fine, the food was good and Matthew had seemed friendly enough. But now Will’s neck prickled as he looked at Matthew looking at him, his expression odd and more than friendly.

“Ah---not today, Matthew, I have to…”

“Course not!” Was the instant reply. “Soon, though? I know a great Chinese place, right around the corner. We can go next week.” And Will watched helplessly as he gave him a heavy wink as he turned away and shuffled back out into the hall, leaving Will more than a bit flustered. He shook his head and took out his phone, not looking forward to the inevitable conversation that was coming with Matthew, but happy to focus on other things at the moment.

 

_Will wiped his hands off on his pants, standing in front of the door. The dirt and oil slick didn’t particularly bother him, it felt like home most often, but he knew that none of his roommates would appreciate a doorknob covered in goop and so he took the time to wipe it off. It wasn’t particularly late, only a little past 11:30, but it was a Sunday evening and both Hannibal and Meredith had 8:00 a.m. classes the next morning, so he also took care to open the door quietly._

_The kitchen was empty and dark, a fat he fixed by getting a bottle of water out of the fridge. Meredith’s room was closed, it seemed as if Florence was still out, and Will walked into the living room, planning to maybe finish his reading before class in the morning, or maybe indulge and watch a little bit of television._

_He was surprised to find the lamp on, a shape stretched out on the couch, obviously asleep. “Hannibal.” He whispered, making sure he was asleep. He couldn’t help but smile; Hannibal was still fully dressed, sweater and all, the book he had been reading fallen haphazardly to the floor, a bottle of some Belgian White beer only have drunk on the table, thankfully resting on the coaster instead of sweating all over the wood that was cheap enough to warp quickly._

_He started his work, picking the book up off the floor, bookmarking the page just in case it was actually the right one, and taking the beer to the kitchen so he could pour it out, the bubbles long flat. He hummed softly as he worked, carefully to make as little noise as possible, even though he knew genetics were working against him since despite his best efforts when Will was working late hours in high school, his father had woken him up every single morning before school._

_When he made it back to the living room, Hannibal was breathing softly, having turned onto his other side, maneuvering a throw pillow up to cushion his head against the arm of the couch which Will could verify was not a great place to sleep for more than an hour or two. He smiled and went to his room and gathered some things._

_He took the extra quilt that his grandmother had made for his first Christmas at college, embroidered in the colors of William and Mary, hand stitched in markings that were slightly uneven. He unfolded it and laid it over Hannibal, the material covering his feet up to halfway up his arms, thick and soft. He plugged in his alarm clock on the table, setting it so that Hannibal would have enough time to get up and make it through his morning routine with a little extra time._

_He paused, making sure everything else was in order, setting up the television remote where Hannibal could reach it, making his book easy to find. He looked down, making sure the man was still sleeping and gently moved his fingers over his forehead, pushing back a stray hair with a soft smile._

_When he rolled over the next morning, a familiar buzzing waking him up, it took him a moment to remember that his alarm clock had not been there when he went to sleep, and that the folded quilt with the handwritten note on it was not there the night before._

 

“What exactly does a sideboard look like?” Will asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of furniture in the showroom, spread out over rugs and topped with all sorts of variable antiques ranging from paintings to lamps to glassware to toys. Hannibal, it seemed, had known most of the sellers as they had come in the front and had held at least friendly conversation with most of them, many of whom Will could see whispering as he came in next to him, trying to avoid looking at people for too long.

He felt slightly guilty about that, Hannibal always invited him to the Roadshow, never pushing, but always making it an option, and he had never come. He wondered what these people had been expecting, probably another well-to-do looking man in a suit, dressed to the nines with a broad smile on his face as he looked at antiques and held easier conversation. Not a man who had realized after they got out of the car that he had a chicken liver stain on his jacket pocket from the last time he had gone catfishing. But their whispers didn’t seem malicious, exactly, so he did his best to keep up with Hannibal who was beginning to move quickly.

“I asked Sam to hold it for me, but it is a highly desirable piece.” Hannibal explained, and Will could tell he was doing his best not to practically pull Will through the room.

“Why don’t you go ahead?” Will said, “I want to look at one of these fishing pieces for dad.” He explained, gesturing to a man selling old timey reels and decorative equipment.

“Alright.” Hannibal said, and smiled as he left with a gentle squeeze to Will’s fingers, disappearing down an aisle in quick steps, looking at his map.

Will stepped over to the booth, looking at an old Bait shop sign that said “Gone Fishing” in large letters, with a small boat in fading paint. It was cute and would look good over the fly making kit that they had gotten him for Christmas and that he had set up for him in a corner of the house.

“How much for that?” He asked the older woman sitting behind the booth who looked up from what he realized might be an erotic romance novel and peered at him.

“Hold on, let me check, Honey.” She said, and pulled out a notebook with what had to be thousands of things listed. “Sorry, usually my husband Tim does this, but he’s getting soup beans.”

Will wasn’t sure what to say, so he just nodded, pulling out his wallet. “Dr. Graham!” He heard a voice from behind him and turned to see one of the other professors, Dr. Orso as well as Hannibal approaching him, pick-up receipt in hand.

“Hello, Kendra.” He said, smiling at her.

“I should have known you’d be over in the fishing things,” She said. “MY husband always loves these things, even though I don’t think that he’s ever actually caught a fish.

Hannibal arrived at Will’s elbow as they shared a laugh. “Kendra, this is my husband, Doctor Hannibal---”

“Oh.” She seemed surprised, and Will could watch as she tried to catch up, “But I thought you and Matthew…I’m sorry,” She smiled and extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Kendra Orso, I teach with Will.”

“It is nice to meet you as well.” Hannibal said and took her hand, his voice barely registering. Will was frozen, not knowing what to say. How to correct her. Is that what others thought? What everyone thought?

 “It’s twenty dollars, honey.” The woman behind him said, and he turned sharply, startled by the break.

“I’ll see you Monday, Will.” Dr. Orso said and left quickly. Will handed the woman a twenty, took the sign and turned around. Hannibal wasn’t looking at him, didn’t really seem to be looking at anything, only nodded as people addressed him.

“Did you get your sideboard?” Will asked as they stepped outside.

“They are delivering it tomorrow.” Hannibal answered softly and said nothing else, even after they had collected Abigail, even after Wil had given his father the sign and earned them both a hug, and even after they had arrived back home and Will had asked what he wanted for dinner.

He instead had looked at Will who felt climbing hopelessness in his chest and his throat as he could see the same fear, the same sadness that he had seen so long ago when Hannibal hadn’t talked hardly at all, when he couldn’t speak for being afraid or broken or cut down. And then, he had taken Abigail into her room, to change and bathe her before bedtime.

And Will watched him, not knowing what to do.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, folks! 
> 
> For reference, the song mentioned can be found at this link: https://doodle.com/poll/fr5hxsfmwz7fbyx9   
> And I highly recommend you listen to it, though I do not claim responsibility for any feeligns invoked. 
> 
> Fair warning, this chapter contains some strong language! So if that's not your cup of tea, I understand! 
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

For the first time in what felt like a separate lifetime, Hannibal did not enjoy his sessions with his patients. They seemed endless, a horrid droning in his ears. He stumbled over words, nearly missed an opportunity at a slight breakthrough, and by the end of the day felt exhaustion tugging at his bones. He left the office and started walking, not towards the car lot but towards town. He was done a few minutes early, his last appointment perhaps realizing the futility of their conversation as much as he had and they had left him a few minutes. He didn’t think he could deal with going home at the moment, he needed space, time for himself.

Will had left him largely to his own devices through the end of Saturday and again on Sunday and he had passed the time with Abigail who was busy telling him all the letters on her blocks. Will had cooked for them both, a simple breakfast of eggs and sausage (grape jelly mixed with the eggs for Abigail), a light lunch of soup, and a dinner of porkchops and mashed potatoes. Nothing extraordinary, in fact it might have been a nice Sunday break, the end of which was spent with Will bathing Abigail, reading her nightly story until he had returned downstairs to try and engage Hannibal in conversation.

He had poured them both a glass of red wine, Hannibal could smell the subtle hints of his favorite vintage for a nightcap, and had started to speak. The wine had remained untouched and though Hannibal had tried to talk to Will, it was as if there was a heavy weight on his chest, holding his words back. He had felt the panic then, the thought of reverting back into old coping mechanisms, and he had stood, mid-sentence from Will, and disappeared to the bed before it could absorb him entirely.

Now, the early summer breeze blowing through the streets made that seem very far away indeed. He walked with his hands in his pockets, choosing to look up towards the sky instead of down which is where every aching part of his body begged him to cast his eyes. Down, away, where he wouldn’t be looked at.

He wondered about Matthew. The person that Will’s colleague had referred to. He had no doubts, not anymore, that it was the same man that he had seen Will at lunch with not long ago. He had already wondered the nature of their relationship: the woman he had met clearly thought they were romantically involved. Is that where Will was when he was running late? In Matthew’s arms? Held to Matthew’ chest? Lying tangled in Matthew’s bed?

He could feel himself walking faster as the anguish stirred in his chest. He was fully captivated by Will Graham, and he had been since he had met him so long ago. He had decided, the night before when sleep was long in coming and only after the exhaustion that came with crying had it finally given him some reprieve, that he had been naïve in thinking that Will felt the same. What he had thought was an extraordinary love, hardened by years of support and trials and careful building was instead built on shaky foundations. Its moorings were built on sand, and in his insistence to build it on bedrock, it had been falling around him without his realizing. Another tear came to his eyes and he stepped even faster, the city turning into the dark glow of nightlife as he couldn’t make himself go back to the car quite yet.

 

_It was their fifth date and Will was driving them home from a showing of the Wizard of Oz at the classics theatre. “Do you like John Denver?” He said, turning to look over at Hannibal, who could say he had honestly never heard of John Denver. Most of Bedelia’s music had no words except for her Norah Jones collection that Hannibal had listened to so many times he had grown to expect the next song and could always hum the first few bars to himself in the silence between tracks._

_“I can’t say that I have, but I am open to a new experience.” He said, and watched as Will moved to change the CD. After years, apparently, of only being able to listen to the Eagles Greatest Hits (so far, Will’s father was always clear to point out), Will had managed to pry the old CD from its moorings. He had a method now, and Hannibal watched as he blushed dark red when his eyes tracked him pulling out the old CD with a pair of long-stemmed tweezers, clipping it into one of the many CD cases under the armrest of his car. And he replaced it instead with what must be a John Denver CD._

_“There’s a song on here, makes me think of you.” He said finally, clicking through the first four or five tracks to one in the middle, the sound of gentle guitar starting. As Hannibal listened, the soft tenor of his voice echoing in the car, he felt his chest compressing, almost as if he were choking. As Will drove them back, doing his best not to sing along so that Hannibal could hear the song, Hannibal wanted to reach over and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, to stop the car and hold him close until that was all he could feel for a moment while the song played. That Will thought of him when it was on…_

_The last few notes died away and they sat in silence. “What do you think?” Will said, voice almost tenuous with worry._

_“It was beautiful.” Hannibal replied, and then realized that a tear had run down his face._

 

He was conscious now that his initial idea to walk for a few minutes before returning to the car had extended into well over an hour. It was dark outside now, and he was more than two miles from his office and car. He could call a cab, but was afraid to check his phone, that Will might be calling and the part of him that still wanted all of this to be working as he thought it always had would be compelled to answer and break this spell of solitude.

So he kept walking, turning down unfamiliar streets even as he ran out of familiar ones. Cars passed him, no one paying any mind, though he knew it must look strange to see a man in a suit walking so late, so far out of town. A pair of headlights shown on him, and he kept moving, expecting them to keep moving as the others had, but instead, they cut their lights. Hannibal felt a cold prickle of fear run along his spine, thinking finally that this may not have been the best plan, his dress made him a prime target for attack. But he was determined not to show fear. He heard the car door open and shut, and he started to walk faster, feet clacking against the sidewalk.

“Hannibal!” He heard a familiar voice yell, and he turned as his husband barreled into him, wrapping his arms hard around him, pressing his head into his shoulder. “Oh my God.” He heard him breathe, and he realized, for one of the few times in their relationship, that Will was crying.

 

_The apartment had been empty when they returned, both Meredith and Florence gone for the weekend. Will stood for a moment, handing his coat on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “It’s later than I thought.” Will said, glancing at the clock. They had stayed out driving for close to an hour, dipping by back streets and near the Wildlife Refuge that Will loved so much. It had been nice, most of it not consisting of conversation, but rather of listening to the gentle sounds of John Denver which Hannibal fully intended to do again in the near future. The lingering notes of Annie’s Song, the first that Will had shown him, still flowed through his brain in a gentle weave._

_He turned to Will, his mouth feeling suspiciously dry, heat creeping into his face and fingers as it both combated the chill and stirred lingering thoughts in his brain. “It is rather late.” He agreed. “But I’m not sure I quite wish to go sleep yet…” He let the end drop off, trying to gauge Will’s reaction, which was, to his delight, almost raucous._

_“I don’t think I’m quite ready to sleep either.” He said, and Hannibal felt one of Will’s hands lingering on his forearm for a long moment. “Bed might be nice though.”_

_Hannibal swallowed, and then smiled, letting his face reflect Will’s before he leaned down, one hand cupping Will’s jaw as he leaned down close to him. “Perhaps I could persuade you to join me in mine, then.” And finished his sentence with a kiss, delightfully returned._

 

“Where is Abigail?” Was the first thing from his mouth, along with a flood of guilt at having not made considerations beyond himself on this venture. Will leaned back, keeping Hannibal within his embrace.

“She’s with Bedelia at the moment.” Will said. “I took her there after you didn’t come home.” Hannibal nodded roughly, unable to look Will in the eyes.

But the man was insistent, and Hannibal felt a gentle hand along his face, thumb running up the sharp cut of his jawline as Will moved him to face him. “I was an idiot, Hannibal. I’m sorry.” He was nearly choking on his words, and Hannibal couldn’t help but feel the hopelessness swell up again in his chest.

“You are having an affair with this Matthew, then?” Hannibal said, trying to make his voice cold, uncaring. But it wobbled, as it always did when Will was involved.

“What? Fuck, Hannibal, no!” Will said, and he ran a hand over his face. “No, God, I would never do that.”

Hannibal watched him take a step back. “Matthew is a complete ass, he’s the new TA for my forensics lab and is apparently telling everyone that he’s interested in me. I didn’t know he was, I swear!” Will said, letting out a laugh. “You know how oblivious I am!”

Hannibal couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “We went to lunch, I thought he wanted to go over the new lab layout! Which we did!” Will said, “I didn’t realize he thought I was expressing interest.”

“Will,” Hannibal said, detecting a note of hysteria. But his husband held up his hands.

“And then, I didn’t talk to you about it after the Roadshow! What the fuck was I thinking?  I know better than that, goddammit!”

Hannibal certainly hoped there were no children in the houses on the darkened street they were standing on, but he had been far more concerned about other things in his lifetime. Will stepped back to him, hands on his shoulders, one tracing his face again lightly. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “And then, when you didn’t come home…I thought you’d done something horrible…oh God, Hannibal…”

And Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will, one hand pressing onto the back of his head, running softly through his hair. “Let’s go home.”

 

_Hannibal woke the next morning with Will’s arm draped over his waist, spooning up against him from behind, wearing only his boxer shorts that he had pulled back on when they were finished the night before. He wasn’t snoring, his breathing only a little louder than Hannibal’s own. Hannibal found that, in spite of his wanting to begin his morning routine, he had little desire to leave. He hadn’t been with a partner in a while, and his body, while nearly fully relaxed from the most sleep he had gotten in a while was also slightly sore as he tested Will’s wakefulness by stretching. It wasn’t a bad feeling, nothing a Tylenol wouldn’t fix._

_As he stretched, Will’s arm came around him tighter, the man grumbling in his sleep. Hannibal couldn’t help it, he wanted to see Will, and did his best to turn on his back. It was difficult, both because of the limited space his bed had to offer them and the fact that sleeping Will was insistent on keeping them pressed tightly together. When he finally did make it onto his back, it took only a few seconds for Will to stretch his arm across him, laying his head on Hannibal’s chest as if it were a far better option than the pillows. Hannibal smiled, watching him sleep, which Will did far too little of, and ran his hands along his back, rubbing warm circles there, letting his own eyes close, a certain song stuck in his head._


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there is some implied violence and definite typical homophobia in this chapter. Lots of fluff, however, as per usual, and a lot happening. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy, please R and R, let me know what you think!

“Thanks for coming out today, Dad.” Will said, sliding into the booth across from his father at Ruth’s, the diner right outside of Will’s childhood neighborhood where they had had many inexpensive, grease-filled, delicious lunches over the years. His father was already sipping on coffee, never one to be late, and smiled as Will sat, his left cheek marked with a stripe of grease. “Do you have to go back to work?”

“Not until 3:30,” The man answered, “I’m yours until then, bud.” He said warmly, wrapping his fingers tighter around the mug. It was summer and certainly hot enough outside that he shouldn’t have needed to warm them. But as he had aged, and his health problems from a life of rough labor had become exacerbated, his circulation was one of the first things to falter and Will found him often wearing gloves or stuffing his hands in his pockets or holding mugs of coffee just like this one to improve the blood flow.

“I hung up that sign you got me,” He added, perking up. “looks like something right out of a magazine, Britt said it’s just like one his dad used to have in his old bait and tackle shop.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Will said as the waitress brought him a coffee by as well. He supposed they had eaten there enough he hardly needed to order, that she would certainly know what he was getting, but he picked up the menu anyway. His father was doing the same, scanning over the same selection of eggs and toast and sausage and hamburgers and chicken sandwiches they had had since this menu had been printed in the late 1980’s.

Will took a moment to look over his father. He was surprised, always, by how similar they looked. His father’s hair was nearly pure white now, his beard only a few shades darker and closer to Will’s own; his square framed glasses had changed from single frames to bifocals that he looked through now to read the small text underneath the menu options, the corners of his eyes were touched with laugh line wrinkles, deepened by his squinting to look closer. He was dark tan, like Will could always remember him, from his days spent mowing lawns for his and Kathy’s retirement fund and house payments, and other days spent on the lake with Kathy or Britt or Will himself. His hands were weathered, and Will could see a slightly peeling callous as his hand tapped the table, his wedding ring making a slight metallic knocking sound on the fake plastic. He looked, in many ways, the same as Will had always remembered him. Strong and kind and a product of a gentle nature and hard work, but he was aging, that much was clear.

“You’ve been a little busy to have lunch with me, Will.” His dad said, looking over the menu. “With Abby doing so much, anyway.”

“Hannibal has her all day, I have class this afternoon.” Will said by way of explanation, though that was in reality simply the mechanism by which he had arrived at this spot.

“Hmmmm,” His father said and put his menu down looking up and folding his hands together around his coffee again. “What’s wrong, then?”

Will laughed, “I ask you to lunch and you assume something’s wrong?”

“No,” His father responded, grinning just a little. “You’re fidgeting. Used to do that all the time when you worried about things. Apparently, you still do.”

Will sighed. It was true that he hadn’t asked his father to lunch as a casual occurrence, though he had decided that he definitely should since it really was nice to see him. Kathy, too, though her schedule at the Education center was far less flexible.

“Hannibal alright?” His father asked, and Will wanted to drown himself in coffee for a moment at his father’s perception.

“He is now.” Will finally admitted, not making eye contact with him and instead looking at the table, pretending to be making a final decision. “He thought I was having an affair with my lab teaching assistant.”

“Were you?”

“No!” Will almost yelled before looking up at his father’s face, clearly teasing. “No, I wasn’t. It’s been a Hell of a week at work though, figuring all that out.” He ran his hands over his face, under his glasses.

“You all ready to order?” The waitress interrupted him, jarring him from the realization that they were in fact, not in a bubble.

“Yes, ma’am,” His father said. “I’ll have the breakfast special, eggs over easy with sausage and could I please get biscuits instead of pancakes?” The woman scribbled furiously, taking the menu.

“And for you?”

“I’ll actually take the same.” Will said, “Except with bacon.”

She took the other menu, topped off Will’s father’s coffee and vanished into the back.

“You go through human resources?” His dad asked, and Will nodded.

“I’m not worried about my job,” He finally said, “I’m worried more about Hannibal. I was just…well, I thought you might have some advice.”

His father sat for a minute, tapping his fingers on the edge of his mug which Will now realized had a chip along the rim. “Well, Willy, I can count the serious relationships I’ve had on two fingers. One of them gave me you and the other gave me a life alongside the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, though if I live to see Abby grow up, she may have some competition.”

Will smiled at the thought of his daughter who had been trying very insistently to explain something to him while he fed her breakfast that morning. It had been a happy babbling, mixed with the chomping of mushed apricots, but not too coherent beyond the occasional “daddy” that had come out between bites.

“But I won’t pretend to know the secret about any of it, Will. I can’t tell you what will work for you because I don’t know the answer to that.” His father smiled up at the waitress as she came by with their biscuits, and kept talking as he mixed a container of whipped butter spread and blackberry jam and spread it over half of a biscuit. “I reckon you’ve just got to realize that there’s a difference between you being happy, them being happy, and you all being happy together. It takes two, and it takes a lot more work than anyone will tell you, that’s for sure.”

He took a bite of biscuit and a swig of coffee. “Now, I’ve done some stupid thing in my life, you can ask Kathy, but the biggest part of that is owning up to mistakes. Making sure you’re being wholly honest.”

“I didn’t…” But his dad held up a hand not full of biscuit and he waited.

“Now, I don’t know the nature of your relationship with this other person, and it seems like you’ve worked that out for itself. But if you’re worried about Hannibal, you need to be honest with him. Tell him how you feel about him. Show him. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, God knows I couldn’t afford anything nice for Kathy for a long time, Will, but something to show you care. A gesture, anything.”

Will’s brain started whirling away with what he could possibly do that might be a gesture worth Hannibal’s attention. He knew Hannibal would appreciate anything he did for him, however small, but this felt larger than that. Something to show that not only did he have nothing to worry about, but they could be stronger. That he was the man Will had loved for such a long time that he couldn’t imagine not having him by his side.

“After you talk to him, of course.” His father was certain to add with a wink as the food arrived and the conversation shifted to his and Kathy’s anniversary trip they were planning to spend a weekend in Tennessee with Kathy’s sister and a couple of days in the mountains where Will’s father could fish. Will thought it sounded especially nice since he couldn’t remember them going on vacation since their two-day honeymoon when he his grandmother had stayed with him at home and his father had to come home early to catch the end of the late shift.

By the end of lunch, Will didn’t want to leave. He tried to ignore the stiffness is the way his father moved out of the booth, although it did give him enough of an advantage to take the check before his father could insist on paying and he went up front to pay for them both. The man did leave a nice tip though, and let Will help as a steadying presence down the one step.

“You all will have to come over for dinner next week,” Will said, giving his father a hug by the car door, “You know how much Hannibal loves to cook for you all.”

“Tell him to make something that doesn’t look like he fished it out of that toxic river down by the harbor and we’d be happy to.” And Will was still laughing to himself as he watched his father drive away.

 

 

_Hannibal was walking across campus, head up as he left his psychology laboratory, humming softly to himself. There were students milling around everywhere, professors and students and others who were going home after a long week of classes and work. He could hardly believe it had been an entire week, only two more days the next week before they could go home for Thanksgiving. Bedelia had already called to tell him that Chiyoh would be coming over, and wanted to know his thoughts on inviting the Grahams. He had told her that would be an excellent idea, and together he and Will had made plans to tell their joint families about their new relationship on that Saturday after Thanksgiving when they would all be meeting for dinner again at Bedelia’s._

_He thought about it as he walked, enjoying the late fall breeze, but looking forward to the even cooler temperatures that waited back in Baltimore, even if it meant a few days of not having as much alone time with Will if they were in their apartment. Time spent exploring each other or laughing or watching the strange old movies that Hannibal loved or the terrible westerns that Will claimed to love even though he always snorted at the forced romances. The night before they had watched on their television while reading, Will’s head in Hannibal’s lap as he held up his criminology book, simultaneously reading about post-mortem insect decay and watching Lash LaRue wrangle a group of train robbers into an old-fashioned cop wagon. Hannibal had run a hand over the curls that hung over his forehead, pushing them back over his skin as he laughed at the ridiculousness of both the acting and the story._

_It was nice memory, quiet and calm, and he smiled against the leaves that blew down their quiet street where their apartment building waited. Will was spending the early evening at the Opiod clinic he had opened for his scholarship program, delivering detox medication, information, and clean needles to self-serving patients. Hannibal tried to volunteer as often as he could, but it was difficult to go there and think of his own father who was in prison, having gone through court ordered rehabilitation for his alcoholism and who Hannibal hadn’t seen since he had started school almost three years prior. But he was proud of Will, so proud that even now he had to smile at the thought of him doing what he loved so well._

_“Hey!” He heard a voice from behind him and stopped walking, the apartment building in sight. The voice was cold, demanding, and close. He turned, not quite sure who was calling him, not sure what was happening. “Hey!” A man he didn’t recognize was coming closer and he realized maybe just a few seconds too late that he should have kept walking._

 

“This is Papa’s favorite, Abby.” Will said, Abigail strapped to his chest, facing out where her little hands were grasping at the things in Will’s hands: a copy of Casablanca, a bag of red kernel popcorn, a pack of homemade bourbon balls he had gotten from the candy outlet down by the music shop, and a full array of take-out food from Hannibal’s favorite restaurant waiting in the kitchen. “He’ll be so surprised.”

She giggled and grabbed at the popcorn, trying in vain to squish a handful of kernels between her tiny fingers, frowning when they wouldn’t comply. The pair of them had spent the day browsing through the candy shop and the gourmet popcorn store (which Will had not known existed) and the movie and memorabilia corner of the mall in order to find all of their things for a fun Friday night in. Only once had Abigail cried and it was when the man who was bartering handmade gummi bears had spooked her from a brief nap while Will was looking through the chocolates. He had apologized though, and she had gotten a free gummi which meant Will had been completely obligated to buy a bag to bring home where they were now in the fruit bowl which he was sure Hannibal would have words about.

He heard a key turning in the doorway, and he set the things down in the little basket he had found in Abigail’s closet, the green ribbon the perfect accent to the wrappings on the bourbon balls. Abigail screeched, knowing that meant Papa was home, and Will wondered for a brief second if she got that excited when he arrived.

“Will?” He heard his husband call, “Abigail?”

“In the kitchen!” Will took the top off of the food containers he had brought from the restaurant, starting to uncork the wine, difficult with Abigail at his chest, but not unmanageable. Just as he was pouring, Hannibal arrived, looking at the spread in front of him, obviously able to smell the rich food that Will had picked up for them, matched with the dark red wine he now held out a glass of, Abigail adding a small handprint to the glass. Hannibal smiled and pressed a kiss to Abigail’s forehead before taking the stem between his fingers.

“I thought the three of us deserved a fun night in.” Will said softly, still afraid that Hannibal might be mad at him, have lingering doubts, but the long kiss, tasting now of red wine changed his mind.

“You never cease to amaze me, Will.”

 

_“Hey,” Will cracked open the door to Hannibal’s room. It was late, way later than he had meant to come back, but one of the men at the clinic had needed someone to talk to and Willl was happy to help. It was still only around 10:00 p.m. and so he had been surprised when Meredith told him that Hannibal was in his room and hadn’t come out since she had been home. “Hannibal, are you alright?”_

_A dark shape on the bed turned toward him, moving the blankets. “Hello, Will.” He said, very quietly as if he didn’t truly want to speak at all._

_“Are you alright? Are you sick?” Something was wrong, Will could feel it permeating the room like an illness, making him sway on his feet._

_“I am not sick.” Hannibal replied, and Will hesitated in the doorway._

_“Can I come in?” He asked carefully, not sure what was happening. Things had been going so well, he wasn’t sure where this had come from. There was a long moment of silence and he swallowed, about to offer to leave._

_“Please do.” Hannibal finally said, and Will watched his body shift on the bed, making room for him on the side he had stayed on a few nights before._

_“Can I turn on the lamp?”_

_“You can’t overreact, it will upset Meredith.”_

_“Overreact to what?” Will said as he clicked on Hannibal’s table lamp. And he froze, sitting on the bed, with his body weight half shifted. Though it was clear that Hannibal had cleaned up, there was a cut across his cheek, and one of his eyes was dark underneath, nearly black from what looked like a punch to the face._

_“You should see the other person.” Hannibal said quietly at Will’s expression._

_“What the fuck happened?” Will said, taking off his jacket and tossing it back._

_“One of the residents of this neighborhood felt the need to express his displeasure at the fact that we are together.” Hannibal said in reply, his voice even._

_“He attacked you.” Will said, and was almost frightened by the coldness in his own voice. “Who was it?”_

_“I don’t know his name. He made it clear he had seen the pair of us returning home the other night. He didn’t leave in a car, so I assume he lives close enough to walk.” Hannibal spoke about it evenly, as if discussing the weather, but Will knew long ago that was a coping mechanism. A way to make himself talk when he truly didn’t want to._

_Will reached out a hand, waiting on Hannibal to move away from him, but he didn’t. And instead, he cupped a hand under his jaw, tracing the new scar along his face._

_“I got away, at least. I was not hurt too badly, it was mostly words, not actions.” Hannibal said, closing his eyes as  Will traced the small mark. “He lost courage when I questioned him and I made it back.”_

_“Part of me wants to go and find him.” Will said, imagining in his head the things that the man had said to Hannibal. The same childish, demeaning insults that had been hurled at him in middle and high school when he was dating Tobias or when he wore nice clothes or bothered to comb his hair unlike the rest of them. It fanned a flame of anger that Will hadn’t known still burned so strongly in his chest. “If you say the word, I’ll do it.”_

_“I want you to stay here.” Hannibal whispered back, and Will shifted, maneuvering them both in motions smother than he thought they had ever managed before until he had Hannibal cradled between his legs, the man’s clothed back against his chest, his head resting on Will’s shoulder as they both leaned against the headboard._

_“I’d stay with you forever, Hannibal.” Will said, pressing a kiss to his temple, careful to avoid the darkening bruise near his eye. He wrapped his arms around him, hoping that he wasn’t too uncomfortable. He reached over and turned off the lamp, thinking it might help Hannibal to relax after the day. He felt him shift against him a little more, undoing his belt so that it wouldn’t dig into his back, tossing it over near Will’s jacket. He ran a hand down Will’s arm where it lay on his stomach, threading their fingers together._

_“I love you.” He said, and only after a long moment did he realize he had said anything at all. And he froze, lips still pressed to Hannibal’s temple, feeling the man’s whole body stiffen against him._


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! Another chapter! I promise exciting developments next chapter, it's going to be lit. 
> 
> Thank you all for continuing to read, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Also, you can find me on Tumblr at obitine5eva (long story) 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy! Please R and R, let me know what you think!

Abigail clapped happily at Bedelia, who closed the little strap around her head so that her decorative hat, much like one of Bedelia’s own, stayed fastened on her head. It had a flower and plume and little bill that Abigail curled a finger around automatically and screeched happily. It held her interest for only a few moments however, when Hannibal set out a plate of blueberries and oat puffs where she could reach them and she found the snack far more interesting.

“Thank you for the hat.” Hannibal said, smiling at Abigail, who chewed happily, occasionally reaching up to his hat. “It’s perfect.”

“I’d be loathe to let your husband be the one to teach her what is acceptable outerwear.”

Hannibal laughed under his breath, knowing that although Bedelia sounded perfectly serious, she didn’t truly mind Will’s affinity for flannel and hi worn-through fishing jacket that even Will himself had admitted needed replaced after patching it the last time. “Speaking of your husband,” Bedelia folded her menu, “How are things? I haven’t seen either of you since he dropped Abigail off and went looking for you last week.”

“Things are…” He could lie and say that things were as they always had been. But she would know that something had happened and though he intended to keep some deal of mystery about his married life from his mother, this was something with which she had become inexplicably involved. “Better, actually.” And she lifted her eyebrows. But it was the truth.

There were very few things he would change about his and Will’s relationship, thinking now he couldn’t think of one concrete thing other than Will’s proclivity for leaving his clothes on their floor rather than in the hamper, though he was certain that Will would change his resistance to getting a dog every time he indulged Will by walking through the PetSmart adoption area when they went to the mall. But this, which he had thought might very easily tear them apart, had shown him instead that the ties that bound Will to him were not the strings he had always worried that they were. Will wasn’t settling for him, for their relationship because it was comfortable and easy. The ties instead were steel cables, reinforced by a near-lifetime of growing together, learning together and the thought even now made him smile. There were parts of him that perhaps would always wonder how he had grown to be of such importance to Will Graham, but he cherished the thought.

“It did not seem that way when he was on my doorstep last Monday.” She said pointedly, and Hannibal couldn’t help but smile fully at her words. Bedelia had a peculiar way about her: referring to Will as “your husband” for example, instead of by name instead of giving any indication of anger in her tone. But they were heavily predictable, and he couldn’t help but laugh slightly, even though it made her press her lips together in a tight line that softened as Abigail began to giggle along. “In other developments, are you still planning on going to the Maryland Mental Health Association Conference in July?”

“Yes, Alana Bloom and I are both planning on going.”

“I have been asked to lead one of the workshops.” Bedelia said, setting down her menu. Hannibal wondered what she had decided on, though usually her lunches consisted of some form of soup and sandwich combination when they went out. He, on the other hand, was planning on the salad and skewered shrimp with an extra side of the oatmeal with berries for Abigail.

“That’s wonderful.” He said, and smiled in what he hoped was a warm fashion. “What are you planning on leading it on?’

She was watching him, he knew, as he wiped at a bit of rogue blueberry juice that Abigail had smeared on the side of her face. But before she could answer him, the waiter arrived and took their elaborate order, leaving a basket of fresh bread for the three of them. Hannibal cut the end off and handed it to Abigail who took it in her hand and started to gnaw on it, soothing her gums that were starting to swell with the rest of her teeth in the back.

“Breh.” She said and Hannibal smiled.

“That is indeed bread, Abigail.” He said, “Do you like it?”

“Breh.” She said again, her voice sufficiently muffled by the bread.

“I wonder what she’ll call me.” Bedelia said after a moment and Hannibal looked up. “Kit informed me that his moniker was “Kitty” or “Pappy Kit” and I have to wonder if I’ll fall victim to a similar fate.”

“I’m sure she would call you Bedelia with enough persuading.”

“You think so?”

“She likes blueberries, I’m sure that with enough of them she would do whatever you asked to be perfectly honest.” And his mother started laughing, something that had been so hard to draw out of her for so long that it sounded so incredible now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She said. “As for the conference, I was actually going to ask if you would like to present with me on adult empathy disorders.”

“Oh.” Hannibal said, and leaned back in the booth, genuinely stunned.

“Papa.” Abigail mumbled after a moment, her face scrunched with concern as her gnawing ceased. Hannibal smiled at her to ease her worries, and she went back to gumming happily, humming a little bit as she did. He and Bedelia had never discussed her therapy with Will while they were in high school, but he and Will had talked about it often enough, and he had done his own studies since he had been practicing for more than a decade now. And to be able to present with Bedelia, with his mother…

“That would be incredible.” Hannibal said. “I would love to.” He paused for a second at her soft smile, looking at him with such fondness it made his chest ache. “Mom.” He added, not watching Bedelia’s response on purpose as their soup and salad arrived and he had an excuse not to.

 

_“This looks delicious, Doctor.” Will’s father said, helping to set around plates of side dishes that Bedelia had prepared. He and Kathy had made and brought the turkey, now situated in the center of the table, for a kind of joint Thanksgiving._

_“Call me Bedelia, Mr. Graham. I think we’ve known each other long enough, don’t you?” Will watched his father grin and give a little laugh._

_“You reckon thirteen years is enough?” He asked, and the four adults shared a laugh, Chiyoh pouring wine, Kathy laying out silverware, and Bedelia wiping down the counter. “You’ll have to call me Kit, then, that’s more than enough of that Mr. Graham business. I’ll leave that to Will.” Will felt his face go red as the room’s attention turned briefly to him. But it wasn’t a bad feeling, especially not with his father’s face beaming at him with pride like that._

_“Fair enough.” She conceded. “And I can’t take credit for all of it, Hannibal actually did the majority of the cooking. Chiyoh and I had a nice break, actually.”_

_“Good on you, then, Hannibal.” Will watched his father clasp a hand on Hannibal’s shoulder as he walked into the room, not quite knowing what was going on but smiling just the same. “Let’s eat, then!”_

_And they all sat around the table, Will sitting between Hannibal and Kathy, and as they bowed their heads while Chiyoh led them in a pre-meal prayer, her felt Hannibal intertwine their fingers under the table and he smiled, letting it make him feel brave._

_Dinner conversation was largely carried between Bedelia and Kathy, who was working on a new pre-psychology program to be put in place at the Adult Education Center as part of their graduate ready programming. Bedelia had insights to offer, and Will would have been surprised if by the end of the evening if Bedelia was involved in some capacity. Hannibal had told him that she was looking for more ways to occupy her time as she was in the process of closing out her psychiatric practice except for a select few patients. She was planning on traveling, and even Will could see the difference in her priorities since Hannibal’s father’s conviction. She seemed much freer in a way._

_After dinner, Will and Hannibal offered to serve pie and it was the first time the two of them had been alone since being home: Hannibal careful cutting exact slices of pecan, pumpkin, and peanut butter pie to soothe the varied palates in the other room. As soon as they were out of sight of the dining room, Will pressed up against Hannibal’s back, pressing his forehead into his shoulder, feeling Hannibal shaking slightly with laughter at the motion._

_“Is over pie a good time to tell them?” He asked, breathing in the smell of Hannibal’s nice cologne._

_“You make it sound as though we are informing them of a terminal diagnosis.” Hannibal quipped back, turning around to press a quick kiss to Will’s lips before handing him two of the plates. “They will be happy, I think.”_

_“Of course they will.” Will said, blushing, thinking that perhaps his worries were indeed all for naught. He couldn’t think of a single reason the other room wouldn’t be perfectly ecstatic._

_“Besides, Will,” And Hannibal leaned down close to his ear, “Even if they did say something, I love you and that’s all that matters.”_

_And then he was gone, carrying plates of pie into the dining room._

 

“Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”

“Jeanine in Human Resources suggested it.” Matthew Brown picked at his shirt sleeve, sitting across from Will in one of his office chairs. “I figured it was in both of our best interests.”

Will nodded, wondering exactly where to start. “Well, I guess…I just…I’m not sure where the wires got crossed is all. I’m sorry if I seemed to indicate I wanted a relationship. I’m happily married, I have a family. I didn’t mean to lead you on in any way.”

“You sure you’re happy, Mr. Graham?” Was the only reply.

“What?”

“It’s just, I’ve never seen you laugh like you did when you were with me. Or smile, or anything.” Will could feel sweat start to form at his neckline. This man was crazy. “You sure you’re happy with that life?”

“I’m more than happy, Mr. Brown.”

“I prefer Matthew.”

“And I prefer that you listen to me.” Will stared hard at him, taking in the strange hawk tattoo on his forearm, his eyes that were full of arousal and attraction, and he swallowed. He needed this conversation to end. “They already separated us professionally, and it doesn’t seem like we can have any kind of friendship outside of that anyway.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so!” Will ran his hands over his face. “This is getting us nowhere.” And he stood. “Thank you for your time.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Graham.”

Will only hoped there was still some of his whiskey left at home.

 

_About halfway through his pie, Hannibal felt emboldened. “Will and I have an announcement.” He felt Will stiffen next to him, hopefully unconsciously. The murmuring around the table died out, and all of the eyes there turned to them. He reached beneath the table and threaded their hands together for the second time that pseudo-Thanksgiving._

_“Will and I have been together since early October.” Hannibal said, and there was a brief pause._

_“Well, thank God, I was thinking it would never happen.” Will’s father said before taking another bite of pecan pie._

_“I was about to say the same thing.” Bedelia added, and ate the last scoop of her piece of pumpkin. Hannibal smiled and brushed the pad of his thumb over Will’s._

 

 


End file.
